They didn’t have to go far to draw water, but it was certainly a pain trying to bring it down to the laundry area without spilling it all over Serenity. Kaylee doesn’t know how she’ll be able to manage this chore in the future without help; she’s too short to pour the water easily into the washing machine. But for now she’s got Jayne, who empties their pails into the wringer while she gathers the clothes and sheets and towels from the big hamper. He helps her stuff them in, shows her how much cleansing powder the load needs, then leans nonchalantly against the large machine.
Her breath catches when she sees that he’s wearing that smile. His right hand reaches out to undo the long row of hooks that runs down the center of her sleeveless top. “Jayne!” she protests, glancing nervously around the open space.
“Ain’t nobody around but us,” he reminds her, continuing swiftly with his task. He’s about a third of the way down the row when she gets both hands on his right arm, pushing him so that her weight traps his arm and his back is pressed against the machine. It doesn’t seem to disconcert him, and his left hand slips in and resumes the job. His fingers are deft despite their size and he lets the tips brush against the skin he’s uncovering. She gasps. “What’s the word? Learned it once. Oh, yeah,” his palm flattens against her belly, “ambidextrous.” The wicked grin on his face as he says the last word is too much for her and she shifts to press her bare breast into his hand.
His eyes darken and he lays her down without any ceremony. He’s pulling at her shorts and she’s fumbling for his zipper, and they’re naked within moments. She’s got her hands on the shifting planes of his broad back, pulling him tightly to her, but it’s his turn to be on top, to set the pace. He’s going slow and deliberate, just to torture her, just to make her plead, “Jayne!” She licks at the side of his face where she thought she saw something like a dimple when he grinned at her. His thrusts become stronger, more insistent, and she’s moaning sweetly, almost in time to the rhythm of the machine rocking above them. “Jayne,” she breathes. “Jayne.”
Continue: Part 11/21