Exaggeration and Blank Verse
Her Game, Her Rules
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She's lying there on the bed, on her back, all relaxed and easy, every movement smooth and fluid. Like she's boneless. Her hips shift against the worn and faded blanket; her neck arches back, thrusting her head against the pillows; her hand moves in slow, sure circles down between her legs. She's got those clever mechanic's hands- "Our little Kaylee's good with her hands," Mal will say blandly, to people he's just met. No idea how right he is. She opens one eye just a slit, making sure I'm still watching. The look on my face makes her smile, wide and wicked, and it crosses her face just as nice and easy as every other move she's making. Like whiskey from the glass.

She's found her rhythm now, her bare feet flexing against the blanket and her knees shifting apart a little more so I can see her fingers sliding deeper inside herself. I grip the arms of the chair so hard I feel splinters go up under my fingernails. The sting is a welcome distraction; she's got to be trying to kill me, making me sit down here at the foot of the bed. Two feet away from her and that's far, far too far. Still. Her night to call the game, her turn to make up the rules. If only she wasn't such a heartless little woman, going and making the main rule "No touching...anything."

She's starting to make sounds now, happy little gasps and sighs as she opens up and wetness slides down her thighs onto the blankets. She slows down her hand, shifts the angle a little, and Christ, I can hear it, the gentle wet sound of flesh on flesh between her huffs of breath. She opens her eyes again to check on me, her lazy smile breaking up into giggles. "Aw, baobei, don't go and die on me..."

I growl at her, because I've entirely lost human speech, watching her like this, and she's a bad terrible girl for coming up with this idea, and if I could get just one hand on her I'd...

"Be a good boy," she said, ending the words with a little gasp and shutting her eyes again. Her hand's picking up speed again, her feet scrambling against the blanket, and her other hand comes up to rake her hair away from her forehead. The tracks of her fingers stay visible in the copper-kissed brown strands, which means they're damp with sweat, and I can just imagine the taste of her skin, salty and sweet and all Kaylee, and yes, this really is going to kill me if she doesn't call off the game soon and let me do something. I'm so hard it's blurring into pain, and I'm going to break this poor little chair of hers pretty quick...

Her free hand slams down against the mattress and her hips thrust up, her pretty face contorting for an instant and then going slack, her lips parting with a sigh of air. "Jayne..."

The chair actually does creak in protest as I force my hands to unclench.

She takes her sweet time gathering her breath and sliding up a little against the pillows, propping herself up on one elbow and looking down at me. She smiles, tossing the damp strands of hair out of her face again, and brings her hand up, sliding the two wet fingers into her mouth. The little smirk in her eyes is permission enough even before she nods, and I shove my hand down into my shorts. Two quick strokes and it's over, leaving me slumped back in the chair trying to catch my breath while her bright laughter fills the little room.

"You're a bad woman," I mutter as I haul myself out of the chair and over to the bed, crawling in next to her on the sweaty-damp blanket. She giggles in my ear and swats at me when I bite the tendon standing out between her neck and shoulder.

"I thought I was your little ray of sunshine," she says, pouting at me and sliding her leg up around my waist.

"Sunburn, maybe."

"Grumpypants," she teases, tracing her fingers over my face. "Well, tomorrow night you get to pick the game."

"Damn right I do. After that, girl, you owe me." I tuck her hair back behind her ears, and it's starting to cool and dry a little, leaving salt along her hairline. "And Jayne Cobb always collects on his debts."

"Big bad mercenary man that he is," she says solemnly. "You want to quit hogging the blanket, mercenary man? I'm starting to get a little cold over here."

"Yes, ma'am," I mutter, shifting and tugging at the blanket until I get it up around her shoulders. She sighs happily and snuggles back against me, and even though I'm cold now, it's all right. She can be the boss whenever she wants to, make up whatever crazy rules pop into her pretty little head, and as long as I get this part- holding her close and hearing her breathe while I fall asleep- it's all just fine.

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