Jayne's Escape
Mar. 25th, 2004 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tamcranverFor the ff_friday "bravery and cowardice" challenge: Jayne, big, ape-like mercenary, meets his match.
Jayne liked to think of himself as a brave man. Put a gun in his hand, he’d take on any man alive; cops and feds didn’t scare him; nobody met a barroom full of brawlers with less fear. But even Jayne had his limits.
The smell coming from Inara’s shuttle—-not just the funny incense smell he’d noticed when they’d had to evacuate the ship, but a sweaty, perfumed odor that he easily identified as Inara and Sex--sent shivers of mixed pleasure and uneasiness down his spine. He had nothing against sex, that was for sure, but he liked it straightforward, him and a woman and any kind of remotely horizontal surface. Companion sex, he thought uneasily, was a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.
He stepped forward and reached up his hand to knock, but the door was open, with only a thin curtain of beads between him and that bewitching scent. “Inara?” he called nervously. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped through. The beads made a swish as he passed through them, passing coolly over his bare shoulders. He suppressed a shiver.
Gorram, he thought as he looked around the shuttle, whorin’ must pay real good! The room was smoky and dim, but the brass incense burner and rich wall hangings were still visible. Their obvious expense only heightened Jayne’s nervousness; he wasn’t used to all this fancy go se. Added to this was the knowledge that this wasn’t just for Inara’s pleasure, but for her clients'. Knowing that men (and the occasional woman) lay down on that big, comfortable-looking bed and...well, humped Inara-—it was enough to make certain areas of a man’s anatomy twinge a bit.
Inara stepped from the bathroom, wringing water from her still wet hair. “What is it?” she said irritably. “I thought I’d made it perfectly clear that I want you to knock before you enter. My client’s only just left and I’d like to wash up in privacy.”
Jayne barely heard a word. Inara was wearing a satin robe-—some deep, rich color between brown and red and embroided with little black patterns. She’d tied it loosely around her waist, and it was slipping just a bit. He could almost make out the curve of one very fine-looking breast.
Inara noticed his stare and rolled her eyes. She pulled up her robe and tightened it, somehow managing to turn what was meant to be a brisk, businesslike gesture into something even more attractive than the breast. Jayne felt his breath start to quicken. Oh, this was…this was seven different levels of wrong! His trousers were uncomfortably tight, and he could feel the blood coursing harshly through his body, but worse than that was the fear. He knew all about Companions and their wiles. For all he knew, she was doing it on purpose, making him let his guard down so she could…pounce, or something. The scent of smoke and sex was suddenly overpowering.
He took a deep breath and muttered, “I gotta go…do somethin’.” He turned around without meeting Inara’s eyes and pushing his way past the curtain of beads. He was so bent on escaping he didn’t see Wash coming down the same path and bumped right into him.
“Whoa!” Wash said, putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall. “Watch it!”
“Sorry,” Jayne panted, too shaken to even growl at the smaller man.
Wash was perplexed at the apology, an unusual concession from Jayne, but let it go and asked, “Did you tell Inara about dinner?”
“Forgot,” Jayne said quickly, and hurried past.
“Forgot? But, but, that’s the whole reason we sent you up here!” Wash called after him. Giving up, he slapped his thigh, still rather bemused. “Man, the pilot’s work is never done,” he said to himself. He’d planned to go wash up, but seeing as how Jayne had been lax in his duties, he decided a quick detour to Inara’s shuttle was in order.
“Hey, Inara,” he said, pushing his head through the curtain. “Soup’s on. You coming down?”
Inara looked up from combing her hair and said, “In a minute, Wash.” Wash stood awkwardly between the corridor and the shuttle for a moment, finally summoning his courage and stepping inside.
“Hey...” Wash began, pointedly looking anywhere but Inara’s robe, which was coming open again. “Did Jayne just come by here?”
“Yes,” Inara said with an amused smile. “I think he was a little intimidated. I haven’t had a chance to clean up the shuttle, and to be frank, it smells rather...”
“Brothel-like?” Wash laughed. “That’s why he went running down the hall? And he calls me chicken!” His mirth subsiding somewhat, he sighed and said, “Guess I’ll let you get dressed now. See you at dinner.”
He was still snickering to himself as he walked back to his room to wash up.
Jayne liked to think of himself as a brave man. Put a gun in his hand, he’d take on any man alive; cops and feds didn’t scare him; nobody met a barroom full of brawlers with less fear. But even Jayne had his limits.
The smell coming from Inara’s shuttle—-not just the funny incense smell he’d noticed when they’d had to evacuate the ship, but a sweaty, perfumed odor that he easily identified as Inara and Sex--sent shivers of mixed pleasure and uneasiness down his spine. He had nothing against sex, that was for sure, but he liked it straightforward, him and a woman and any kind of remotely horizontal surface. Companion sex, he thought uneasily, was a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.
He stepped forward and reached up his hand to knock, but the door was open, with only a thin curtain of beads between him and that bewitching scent. “Inara?” he called nervously. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped through. The beads made a swish as he passed through them, passing coolly over his bare shoulders. He suppressed a shiver.
Gorram, he thought as he looked around the shuttle, whorin’ must pay real good! The room was smoky and dim, but the brass incense burner and rich wall hangings were still visible. Their obvious expense only heightened Jayne’s nervousness; he wasn’t used to all this fancy go se. Added to this was the knowledge that this wasn’t just for Inara’s pleasure, but for her clients'. Knowing that men (and the occasional woman) lay down on that big, comfortable-looking bed and...well, humped Inara-—it was enough to make certain areas of a man’s anatomy twinge a bit.
Inara stepped from the bathroom, wringing water from her still wet hair. “What is it?” she said irritably. “I thought I’d made it perfectly clear that I want you to knock before you enter. My client’s only just left and I’d like to wash up in privacy.”
Jayne barely heard a word. Inara was wearing a satin robe-—some deep, rich color between brown and red and embroided with little black patterns. She’d tied it loosely around her waist, and it was slipping just a bit. He could almost make out the curve of one very fine-looking breast.
Inara noticed his stare and rolled her eyes. She pulled up her robe and tightened it, somehow managing to turn what was meant to be a brisk, businesslike gesture into something even more attractive than the breast. Jayne felt his breath start to quicken. Oh, this was…this was seven different levels of wrong! His trousers were uncomfortably tight, and he could feel the blood coursing harshly through his body, but worse than that was the fear. He knew all about Companions and their wiles. For all he knew, she was doing it on purpose, making him let his guard down so she could…pounce, or something. The scent of smoke and sex was suddenly overpowering.
He took a deep breath and muttered, “I gotta go…do somethin’.” He turned around without meeting Inara’s eyes and pushing his way past the curtain of beads. He was so bent on escaping he didn’t see Wash coming down the same path and bumped right into him.
“Whoa!” Wash said, putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall. “Watch it!”
“Sorry,” Jayne panted, too shaken to even growl at the smaller man.
Wash was perplexed at the apology, an unusual concession from Jayne, but let it go and asked, “Did you tell Inara about dinner?”
“Forgot,” Jayne said quickly, and hurried past.
“Forgot? But, but, that’s the whole reason we sent you up here!” Wash called after him. Giving up, he slapped his thigh, still rather bemused. “Man, the pilot’s work is never done,” he said to himself. He’d planned to go wash up, but seeing as how Jayne had been lax in his duties, he decided a quick detour to Inara’s shuttle was in order.
“Hey, Inara,” he said, pushing his head through the curtain. “Soup’s on. You coming down?”
Inara looked up from combing her hair and said, “In a minute, Wash.” Wash stood awkwardly between the corridor and the shuttle for a moment, finally summoning his courage and stepping inside.
“Hey...” Wash began, pointedly looking anywhere but Inara’s robe, which was coming open again. “Did Jayne just come by here?”
“Yes,” Inara said with an amused smile. “I think he was a little intimidated. I haven’t had a chance to clean up the shuttle, and to be frank, it smells rather...”
“Brothel-like?” Wash laughed. “That’s why he went running down the hall? And he calls me chicken!” His mirth subsiding somewhat, he sighed and said, “Guess I’ll let you get dressed now. See you at dinner.”
He was still snickering to himself as he walked back to his room to wash up.