by: Dacia
Firefly I/R PG13-ish
WARNING : Eek! There are definitely some girl-on-girl type things in this here story.
DISCLAIMER : Firefly is the property of Fox, Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No characters were harmed in the writing of this story, although one good coffee mug did lose its life to an unforgiving tile floor. No profit was/is/will ever be realized from the writing of this story. Otherwise, I could afford a new coffee mug, instead of pinching one from the local Tim's.
SPOILERS : None that I can think of at this time.
Inara rested briefly against the frame of the door to her shuttle. It had been a long day-- Correction, another long day. Some space traders had negotiated to obtain Serenity’s time and illicit cargo, and then proceeded straight to the predictable double-cross. Thankfully, the crew had come out fine, more or less. Inara let out a small sigh. It seemed like every time she turned around, someone was off getting themselves shot or tortured or the like—Mal, Captain Reynolds especially, but the rest of the crew was certainly not immune. It hurt her heart to think of it, the pain that they’d endured. And yet, this was the life they’d chosen, to one degree or another, all of them, except for Simon and River, of course. A brief furrow appeared on the dark Companion’s brow as she contemplated the fugitive pair. This life was most certainly not of their making.
Pushing herself away from the metal frame of the door, she gracefully lifted the flowing grey-blue silk of her garments and entered her shuttle. Sheaves of red velvet and glittering gold adorned the interior, and dozens of pillows luxuriated on the floors and the settee. In the corner of the main room, the dull glow of the Cortex called from her desk, and she considered whether it would be worth her time to check for any recent waves from potential clients. Captain Reynolds had informed her-- through his most recent split lip and puffed cheek-- that Serenity would be docking at Plataea in two days time. But the tiny mining colony, a moon of New Athens, was unlikely to harbour anyone even capable of affording her services. Athens itself was a rather prosperous Outworld, and might hold some possibilities, but the Captain had indicated that they would only be in the system for as much time as it took to upload their cargo, and then they’d be heading out into the black once more.
A minute tightening at the corner of her mouth was the only outward indication of the Companion’s vexation. She’d spoken with Mal before about needing to be informed regarding their schedule. Inara was fully aware that Serenity wasn’t exactly functioning on Alliance time, but if she was to earn her living, she needed to be able to make commitments and keep them. She sighed again, running a hand through the tangled mass that had fallen in a dark veil before her eyes. It had been a long day. The fiercely curled hair that she so carefully maintained was breaking free of its forced domestication and threatening to revert to its feral state. She strode across the main room and turned to lift the heavy curtain obscuring her bed chamber before entering. She arranged the cloth once again behind her, and then let the shimmering pale wrap fall from her shoulders, catching it with one hand to fold it neatly. As she pivoted to place the article on a chair, a brief flicker of surprise washed over her features.
"River?" She addressed her query to the dark-haired girl who lay on the floor at her feet, her presence previously concealed by the bed frame. "What are you doing here?"
River was prone, her head propped up by one of Inara’s sumptuous pillows that lay beneath her chin. She was clad in her usual black boots, ankles crossed behind her in the air, and her loose red dress bunched at the backs of her thighs. Beside her, a shapeless grey sweater pooled, its hasty removal attested to by an inside-out sleeve. In each hand, River grasped an artist’s charcoal, both were occupied, furiously at work on a hapless sheet of paper, which Inara recognized a beat later as her client manifest from Persephone—fortunately she had the information saved to file.
"River…" she tried again gently, "… won’t your brother be looking for you?"
"Simon." River did not look up from her work, but carried on drawing.
"Yes, Simon."
"Simple Simon."
Inara blinked, not knowing where this was heading. River could be so unpredictable at times.
"He met a pieman… I used to eat pie," she declared, and continued in a sing-song voice, "Blueberry, strawberry, cherry… I like pie—3.14159265359…"
"River…" but Inara paused in her efforts, her eyes drawn to the picture that River had created.
"Do you like it?" The girl turned the drawing around, so that Inara was faced with—herself.
The Companion crouched closer and gazed in wonder at the sketch. Though the drawing was done in charcoal, it seemed almost to breathe. That hair, those eyes, and lips, it was her own face, and yet more. The features she was confronted with combined to create a sensual tableau that exuded an alluring sexuality. Inara was intimately aware of her appearance, she could hardly be anything else when her livelihood depended on appearances, but she was left wondering whether this was truly the image she projected to the outside world—if this was how people, people like Mal, saw her. Her hand reached out, her fingers hovering over the charcoal reflection of her face, tracing the line of her cheek.
"Do you like it?" River asked again, her childlike voice at odds with the unsettling intensity of her stare as she awaited the Companion’s response.
Inara pulled her hand back. "You’re very talented," she commented evenly. River was a genius, having displayed a startling facility with languages, math and science, why not art as well? Inara straightened. River followed, the drawing forgotten at her feet as she rose in one smooth motion, a little too close to Inara. The girl’s invasion of Inara’s space was subtle, and normally, the self-assured Companion wouldn’t have noted it, but it was accompanied by the indecipherable regard of those dark eyes.
Feeling somewhat stifled in the small bedroom, Inara made to move to the main chamber, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. Warm, almost hot fingers flitted, perhaps inadvertently, over the delicate skin of her inner wrist. Inara glanced back, unwilling to commit her body to that action. River smiled broadly, a brilliant and utterly innocent smile that momentarily quieted the unease that had welled up in the beautiful Companion. Thoroughly disarmed, Inara allowed herself to be drawn to face River.
"I know what you know," the girl declared through her smile.
Inara issued a somewhat bemused smile of her own, "Pardon me?"
"Silly!" A sparkle of mischief kindled in River’s eyes. "You know what you know. You’re testing me. I always did well on the tests."
The Companion allowed herself no reaction as the willowy girl stepped closer, but the unnamed disquiet returned. Although Inara was somewhat taller, her height afforded her no advantage as River levelled her with a thoughtful gaze. The girl’s fingers still lay upon her wrist, and Inara could feel their heat transferring outward across her skin. It was strange, that this pale, seemingly fragile girl was having such a significant effect on her.
"It was part of the lessons, but we never practiced. We always practiced, but not this," River confided, heating the air between them with her earnest ramble.
"River, what--" Somewhere along the line, the girl had disappeared, and the balance of power had shifted. Inara was not in control, if she ever had been. River was steering this situation, and right now, River’s fingers lay across Inara’s lips, staying any further questions.
"Shhh…" River cooed.
Inara’s consciousness was reduced to three points: the hand that openly stroked the tender skin of her wrist; the fingers that gently barred her speech, dipping briefly into the softness of her mouth; and the dark, liquid depths of River’s eyes, her intentions easily decipherable as she whispered solemnly, "… it’s okay. I always do well on tests."
Fingers were replaced by lips feathering lightly over Inara’s, and the Companion felt the warmth that had kindled at River’s touch burst into flame. How such an insubstantial caress could be so seductive and yet so innocent, almost shy at the same time, Inara did not know— not even the Academy could teach such an art, perhaps because it required a complete lack of guile. As she was with most things, River was not content to let the kiss remain static. She shifted her position, one hand moving to the Companion’s waist, while the other touching Inara’s wrist trailed upwards, leaving goosebumps in its wake as it travelled over the bare flesh of her arm, tangling in her hair. Fingers massaged the nape of her neck. Inara’s training as a Companion urged her to take control of the situation, or at least the semblance of it, but the urgent pressure of River’s lips on hers overrode rational thought, and when she felt a gentle line of fire drawn across her bottom lip by River’s tongue, the remains of her composure were dissipated. Yet, even as she reached for River, intending to draw her closer, the dark-haired woman pulled away, forcing Inara to stifle a disappointed groan.
River grasped Inara’s hands in her own, her eyes were dark and wide and absolutely serious, "Better than the textbook." She smiled a dazzling smile, the girl had returned. "I’m going to find some pie," and with that declaration, River scooped her sweater up from the floor and pushed through the draped doorway, leaving a dazed Companion to wonder what the hell had just happened.
Inara raised an unsteady hand to touch her lips, the surface of which still tingled from River’s kiss. Her astonishment was complete in the wake of the total dissolution of her training and experience by this pale, slip of a girl. If not for one thing, the Companion would have been willing to dismiss and forget the whole incident. But she couldn’t just forget it-- at her feet lay the reminder that she would never bring herself to destroy. She bent to pick up the piece of paper, lifting only enough so that she could collapse into the welcoming softness of her bed, feeling drained by the day’s trials. She raised the sheet to study the drawing that graced its surface more closely. It was the portrait of a woman who looked so certain of her charms and secure in her seductive role-- a woman, who although they shared the same face, Inara could not feel more removed from than now. Inara fell asleep gazing at that drawing, and wondering at its creator.
THE END
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