The Pleasuring of Kaylee Ch. 01

Kaylee swallowed and followed the line of him down from otter-sleek head past heavy mountainous terrain of shoulders and back. Her gaze passed over the inhospitable mist-covered areas and settled on one hard buttock that played peek-a-boo through the flumes. She swallowed again. Took a large dry linen towel down off a rack and settled into a stance of watchful waiting.

There was plenty to watch and she'd never mind if the waiting lasted for a week. He soaped under his arms, then turned this way and that to allow water to cleanse away the soap.

Her eyes were adhered to the man as he stepped a little back from the shower head, took the cake of soap and vigorously lathered his genitalia. She couldn't see it, exactly, but knew that to be his destination due to his spread legs, slightly bent knees, elbows jutting back and forth as he laved himself clean, then rinsed.

Grateful for something to lean on, Kaylee edged her way nearer to a storage closet a few feet from the shower under an exhaust fan that was currently switched on. She had keen need of something to lean on at that moment, and it would provide a handy place to duck beside when he turned around to face what he had every reason to expect would be an empty shower room.

Just as she moved to the cover, he about-faced, rinsing his back, eyes forward. Didn't see Kaylee, wasn't looking for anybody, although his mind had been seeing Kaylee all the previous night and all of today too.

Woulda liked to spend some quality time with her now, even if only in his head, allow his hands to work himself imagining it was her. Mal'd told him to hurry, though. He wanted to talk to Jayne and Zoe 'bout the shanghaiing of a payroll.

Truth to tell, Jayne was in a hurry his own self to get back to earning his keep. A flush money bag was a thing o' beauty and a joy for-fecking-ever, but also might be a help to getting Kaylee something nice.

She liked nice things, even though her job left her in work clothes and smudged most times. He liked what he saw her in, no matter what it was. Liked her even more nekkid. Had seen it with his own eyes in his own bunk so he knew what he was talkin' about.

There it went again. He turned off the hot and cold water, shoved the nekkidness of Kaylee outta his gorram mind and opened the shower door, looking down at the threshold so as to not trip while getting out.

The steam from the open door rolled out onto something standing on the terrycloth bath mat just outside. Jayne jumped, hands reaching for weapons that weren't on his wet naked hip.

"Kaylee!," he yelped at the sight of her, linen towel in hand, chestnut hair fluffed around her pretty face from the room's humidity. "I didn't, ummm, I wasn't…"

She didn't say much, and her expression said even less as she grated, "Turn around."

He did.

Complying with any Kaylee request was becoming second nature to Jayne. He didn't even have to think about it, just did whatever she asked because what she asked him was for his good. His back was safely to her now and he searched for something to say, anything that might be charming and calm-producing at a time like this. Nothing came to him. What would Simon say?

Jayne's brain function revved up a notch toward guilt, thinking her request for him to turn around might be on account of her embarrassment at the bold sight of him, pure overhead lights of the room limning his swingin' cod, hanging out there all to hell and back. He thought to cup his privates from view, but trashed the thought.

He wanted, needed to see where this would go and no more hiding might be the way to provoke some kind, any kind of conversation. She was all he'd been thinking about and talking had to be the way out of his current mental predicament.

He took a deep breath to start in on saying something, even if it was wrong, when he felt the first firm gliding touch of her hand through the linen cloth. She toweled the back of his head and neck, moved on to the breadth of shoulders and dipped in at the small of his back.

He should have been cold, the water on him cooling as the room's temperature penetrated through the open door of the shower. He was red hot though, not a shiver to spare.

The big wet man let all his breath go at the first touch of her, leaned on his bent arms on the shower wall while involuntarily and simultaneously pushing his body out toward her reach.

She took the cloth up to his right armpit, "Raise your wing," dried under there, moved to the other side, Jayne, the quick study that he was where she was concerned, raised his other "wing" without needing to be asked. She turned the dampening cloth over and smoothed it over one of his hips, then the other.

His head turned as far around as it could to look down at her, trying to catch a look at her expression, but she was bending down to kneel at his heels. He faced the wall, afraid to look anymore, frankly fearing he was losing his mind again, happily hallucinating his heart's, his body's desire made flesh right here and gorram now.

From her kneeling position on the bath mat, Kaylee reached the cloth up to his firm buttocks, rubbing as if they were stepping stones to be lightly polished. He flexed a bit and she smiled, pulling her cloth-covered hand down to the juncture of his thighs, hesitating just the tiniest instant, then plowing down one of his legs and up the other almost before his upper thighs had a chance to part in vain hopes of further delving toward his balls and staff. Surely THERE was a wet place in need of some industrious drying.

Jayne's shower assistant made the slightest pleased "mmm-ing" noise deep in her throat at his eager reaction, but Jayne was breathing so hard and loud that he'd never heard it.

If he could see her face just then, he'd not be worried so much about what he needed to say in order for her to find him charming. Non-verbal communication was working a goddamn miracle.

The back of him all properly dry, she uttered, "Turn around," again and he did.

And his cock nearly hit her in the head.

He bent down a little as if to raise her up by her arms but she stopped the motion-- hell, stopped his breath-- by cupping his cock and balls in her linen-swathed hands.

Well, somebody throw him a squirrel and let him ride a cab to nut town. He was about to go completely insane and it looked to be a very good place to be.

Kaylee was looking straight up into his stunned face as she worked the towel beneath him, above him and around him, drying his nethers off. She carefully gently slowly and easily took the towel's edge to behind his nutsack and slowly swept it back under it and over it, and cupped first one ball, then the other. She had a need to dry him off especially carefully in this area, prior to an even stronger need to re-wettify them herself.

Inara was wrong. Words weren't what was needed here. Kaylee and Jayne had not exchanged more than a dozen words here in the shower room. Talking was over-rated.

She filled her eyes with his face and form, filled her sinuses with his soap-clean smell, with the underlying leather and tobacco smell of the man. Filled her ears with his hard-won breathing, a difficulty she was the glad cause of, and filled her hands with the lovely weight of his jutting manhood.

And just in case there was any possibility that Kaylee might actually need to do some speaking, just because she didn't want to voice any words since she didn't have anything pretty to say, she stopped the need for speech by flipping the damp towel over one shoulder, gripping the base of his shaft in her hand, balls in the other and filled her mouth with Jayne.

ma-shong – on the double
gorram – god damn, or gosh darn

The Pleasuring of Kaylee, Part 4

The top of Jayne Cobb's head blew clean off. That's the only way he could describe it as it happened. People talked about having their mind blown, and this had to be what it meant. Since the biggest part of his brain tended to be located where Kaylee Frye's mouth was working at that very moment, it was a doubly accurate description.

Right after she had tenderly and thoroughly dried him down with a towel, she'd knelt down, ordered him to turn to face her and she'd started on wettin' right specific parts of him. His eyes took it all in like he was sighting down Vera's sleek length boring down on a potential kill. A living breathing all-over perfect wet dream was mucking up his ability to think straight so he simply stopped thinking, left everything on auto-pilot while his body went on a field trip.

He couldn't take his eyes offa her head, her pretty hair, the small hand that alternately gripped him hard and circled up soft to where her mouth held him, then back down to where his cock rose up from its moorings at his groin.

She took him in deep, hand resting at his base, then pulling suction wet and hot, taking giving, back up to the purple head of him, fingers pulling toward her mouth, running all along his length to just in front of her lips and back down again. Her hand knew the pace, the squeeze, the rhythm and pulse he needed, god damn, she was the best he never knew could be. How'd she get to know this dance so friggin' well?

Who cared? He sure didn't care. Would be all luh-suh of an idiot to really have any need to question the gift of this. Couldn't no-wise bring himself to care about anything just now, what with the move and sway of Kaylee's mouth on him, her hand a graceful ministering acolyte praying service to him alongside her mouth, her tongue.

Her other hand didn't lack for terrain ripe for torture neither. She plied it all soft and long up behind his low back, then ranged beneath him, running fingers along his ball sack, now slyly pinching the bit of excess flesh not yet strung tight to his balls up against his body. Restless as a long tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs, she touched, held him there lightly, playfully, seeming to know just the right handling he'd take.

'Wa ch-ao, she held his eggs like she'd had a pair to learn on all her life. And he knew that wasn't the case, for hadn't his own hand's fingers played over her nethers, stroked inside her folds, tested her pinkness last night when they'd made love in his quarters, in his gorram bunk?

Right now in the shower room, the girl was a miracle of tenderness, of caring planted right at his feet, mouth leaving his cock to hotly, leisurely kiss her way to his scrotum, lips gently tugging one covered ridged oval and then the other.

He hissed through mouth and nose, coiled snake of a man stretched up taut beyond bearing, het up on all manner of engine overload. Before he lost any shred of control, Jayne took another deep breath and exhaled her name in a plea for her to stop. "Kaylee girl. Awwwww, no I don't want you to, but you gotta stop."

His eyes registered her compliant attention, cessation of the blow job of his life, and his body called his mouth a gorram fool.

Kaylee's water-misted face turned up to him, eyebrows raised in a question that her eyes couldn't find answered in his own. She used the back of the hand that had lately held his manhood, slowly wiped across her mouth before she stood to face him.

She was trembling, realizing the horror of her latest mistake.

Hell, the whole story of her and Jayne that'd come down during the last few days was a stupid mistake, and she was the author, only one to blame. He didn't want her, couldn't want her. Had to think she was a tchen wa, a desperate slut, throwing herself into his bed last night and attacking the man in his shower this morning, ordering him around, putting her mouth where it weren't no way welcome, not even useful enough to tolerate her on him...

"Jayne, I'm sorry. Sorry I've been so stupid. I thought I'd just let it all lay, give me and you time to even things out and simmer down after last night," she moved back from him a step. "It didn't work for me, the giving time, the simmering down. I've been no good to anybody, and worse, no good to Serenity's needin' work like I should.

And it's because of you. You're running around in my head, nekkid and muscly and screwin' with everything I'm supposed to be concentrating on. I quit working on tuning up the engines this morning on account of you. Left it on hold, figuring maybe if I stopped avoiding you, found you in your cabin and sat down to talk, really talk about it, maybe I'd get free to get back to normal."

She turned her back to him then, not wanting to see his face when she finished. "When Mal told me you were in the shower, all I could think about was not thinking. Not needing to think, just needing to do. And when I saw you in here, sweet Buddha, Jayne, it was a relief, a glorified relief to stop thinking and let myself take you in, hold you tight, let that answer some of the questions that've been rattling around in me. No need to talk, just to touch ya."

"Kaylee," she heard his voice easing out deeper, smokier than usual, felt the air shift a bit when he stepped a little closer to her. Out of the side of her eye she saw his hand reach to turn her back toward him but she couldn't have that. She stepped away again, slid sideways to the door, urge to escape the undeniable inevitable dismissal he was surely about to give over-riding anything else.

"I'll…I'll talk to you later, Jayne. I've gotta go, shouldn't have left the engine room a mess. Captain'll kill me, will be askin' me about space monkeys tearing things up again, so I've gotta get there and finish up before he sees red."

Jayne hated himself for having no gift with words. Words to fling in anger, speech to make her stay. Chinese curses worked in whorehouses and taverns, sure. Sarcasm sharp as the big pig-sticker sheathed on his belt, yeah. Words pretty and charmifying to combat Kaylee's hurt, well, nothing like that appeared in his arsenal. Especially not now when he needed them, when SHE needed them.

All he did was clear his throat in helpless confusion as she turned to go. That and he wrapped a towel around his waist in belated modesty. The makeshift kilt didn't do a thing to ease the congestion of a dick that kept pointing accusingly up at the pie-hole that'd told the glory that was Kaylee to stop ministering to him.

Amazingly, his cock twitched a bit toward her direction as she turned to leave, threatening to follow her out the door, would his uncooperative feet please just assist in the carrying of it in her wake. The mindless piece of meat left off veering toward her exit and began pointing up at him when she closed the door. She'd flown away from him, from it.

"Wo cao ni ye ye de sao pi yan!," he yelled, uncaring that Kaylee was sure to hear his anger expressed in the filthiest mandarin he could dredge up as she strode down the corridor outside. He slammed the flat of his hand up against the clear plaz of the shower door with all the strength of considerable frustration. It came off its moorings at the force of it, swinging crazily back and forth. "That's just great," he mumbled. Something that needed fixin' quick-like before the next person came in.

Some innocent would come in here for a shower, see the broken limping door and make some crack about him not knowing his own strength, or maybe sayin' he was too weak to stand up proper, musta leaned on the door and broken it, and he'd hand them their gorram teeth in payment. He knew he would.

And after he administered the dental work, Mal'd treat him to a non-stop economy flight out the airlock without a moon suit. Things was bad right now, but no need for more bad just because he was all hell of a twisted up wang ba dan. He'd have to work quick before someone came in and reaped bodily injury they didn't nowhere near deserve.

The next person to take a shower would be lucky. They'd get all he'd wanted, a nice long pleasant shower. Oh sure, theirs wouldn't be complicated, interrupted by a sweet little love slave's mouth all wrapped warm and willin' and pulling on their nethers… Gorramit! What'd he done? Why did he have to be such a gan ni niang'n fool?

He kicked at the bottom of the door, rewinding its crazy canted swinging. Now his big toe hurt too and that was actually good news, because the stinging singing pain took his mind off the tightness of his testicles, the throbbing of his prick's disappointment unrighteously-wrought.

The big man yanked open the storage closet and found a little box of sundry tools on the bottom shelf. He grabbed what he needed and went to fixing the damaged shower door with a vengeance ordinarily only shown by him in a bar brawl, controlled anger vented somewhat on the work at hand.

He finished the job quickly, put the box back in the closet and ripped the towel off his waist, tossing it without a thought on the floor despite Zoe's sure-to-be-repeated lecturing on a body's need to respect a space used by his peers. At this moment he refused to see any path of reasonable thought due to the obscuring red haze in his head.

Like an alpha wolf raked bloody by its mate, seeking only to find and vent frustration on the cause of his pain, he let only instinct guide him toward his next move.

"Whadda I do now?," he hissed. Looked around the room as if the answer lay there. 'Stick to essentials,' he thought. Since he couldn't go after her buck-naked, he thrust his still damp feet into clean khaki army-issue pants, dragging them up over his rearing cock and struggling to button the fly strained nigh to bursting by what Kaylee'd left behind as a souvenir. Shoes weren't strictly necessary for tracking down his tormenter and neither was a shirt, so he left them in a pile on the bench where he'd tossed them when he came in to shower an hour or maybe a year ago. Hell, time'd stood still while she'd been at him, on him.

Sufficiently garbed for government work, the big man took huge hurrying strides to the exit and slipped, slid unstopped by his bare feet on the wet floor. On the way down he grabbed at the door handle for support but lost his grip and fell down hard on the tiles. Seeking purchase on the door meant that his hands were no help in bracing for impact so his right hip and gunshot thigh met unyielding floor and, lastly, the side of his head impacted with a double thud that echoed all along the corridor outside.

Not soon enough for Kaylee to hear it though since her running feet had taken her half-way to the engine room by the time the floor rose up to meet him. The lights went out for Jayne as he lay cold and alone in the shower room.

~~~

Inara's still small smile was testament to the good she felt she'd done today. A life sold to the Companion's Guild sometimes honed one's ability to provide counsel regarding relationships, a sort of working woman's amateur psychology. That was a side effect of years spent perfecting one-on-one (or sometimes one on two) intimate relationships for a living.

Her profession was perfectly suited to what she knew in the very bottom of her soul was her love for people, her need to be of use and help to them. By doing so, she helped herself. Some people did not, could never understand this. Didn't acquaint what she and her carefully chosen clients did with the societal service it truly was.

One person in particular refused to see how ideally suited Inara Serra's craft was to her inner self, how necessary it was for the continuance of her existence both physical and metaphysical. His refusal to try and understand left the serene lake of her reserved calm choppy and nearly foaming in the wake of his jarring insults. It was as if he reached one strong long-fingered hand inside her, stirring up her waters.

Malcolm Reynolds trod all unheeding inside the house and property of Inara's soul. And just as a plumber's house tended to have leaky pipes, the lovely Guild-registered Companion found the captain to be the evidence of her failure at home on Serenity.