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kinkfestTitle: Idle Daydreams
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eiviiaru
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Vanilla hetsmut, not always with the nicest euphemisms ever (this is Jayne Cobb we're talking about, after all)
Word count: 1216
Summary: Jayne's imagination runs away with him.
Prompt: Firefly, Jayne/Inara: fantasies - Inara was too good at putting herself together to ever fall out of her fancy dresses, but he could dream, damnit!
A/N: There's a little less porn and a little more woobie here than I intended when I picked up the prompt; sorry about that. Also, this is my first time writing Firefly, so I apologize if the slang comes off badly or if characters are butchered.
Jayne's never been much of a daydreamer by nature, but for Inara, he's willing to make an exception. It starts to be like a game to him -- every new outfit means a new flight of fancy... a new distraction from the same old ship and the same old crew.
It's more fun than he expects.
--
Of course Jayne stares. Why shouldn't he? He's been waiting all night for that frilly thing Inara's wearing to give in, and when it does, he figures he's earned a good ogle.
Under it, like he'd guessed, she's not wearing a thing, and her tits are perfect: not the biggest he's ever seen, but big enough, with a natural shape to beat every modded-up dance-hall girl in the 'verse. Her nipples are dark and already stiff, and it's then that Jayne realizes: she hasnt attempted to cover herself, and she's staring just as hard at him as she is at her.
"Jayne," Inara says, her voice pure sex. "Do you really think this was an accident?" She steps close enough for him to smell her perfume: some kind of flower, sweet and strong.
He doesn't answer; he's a man of action, and right now the action is clear.
--
Jayne knows the Captain has it all wrong about whores.
To the Captain, a whore's someone to spit on -- a woman so low she's almost a thing, all because she sells her body. But who doesn't sell their bodies? If it's not for fucking, it's for plowing or hauling or, Hell, for shooting. Jayne's sold his body all his life; he doesn't have any other stock in trade, and neither do most of the outer-worlders he's known. So what if Inara's from somewhere nicer?
To Jayne, a whore's a woman selling what she has to sell, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's a service that comes with an understanding: she'll give you what you paid for, and you'll treat her nice while she's workin' for you. Maybe the Captain understands that much, but just because there's no cash on the barrelhead doesn't mean Inara isn't working for him. Least he could do is keep up his end of the bargain.
Jayne knows that if he ever had the cash -- or the goodwill -- to have Inara working for him, he'd sure as Hell treat her nice.
--
"Was about gorramn time to get out of that monkey suit."
Jayne tugs at his tie as soon as they're in the hotel room, and Inara just laughs. This far along, she knows him well enough to know how he feels about dress-up, and he knows her well enough to know just how much humoring her desire for evenings out pays off. Three hours of incomprehensible core-world theater is nothing compared to the feeling of her tits on his back and her arms around his neck, undoing his tie from behind.
Gettin' into the monkey suit is torture, but gettin' out of it is bliss.
Once the tie's off, Jayne strips his jacket off and turns around, all the better to watch Inara work on her own clothes. She's wearing satin, in some kind of light purple with a fancy name, but all he cares about is how it shimmers and pools around her as she eases down the straps and works the zipper. He fumbles with his own buttons; her beauty's like a pistol-whipping. He can't wrap his mind around why she's with him. But he doesn't care.
By the time Inara's naked, he is too, and they fall on the bed together. Soon she's on top of him, kissing with a hunger that he can't help but match. His hands are on her hair, her tits, her sides -- but there's no run-up necessary tonight; almost before he knows it, he's up against the headboard and she's slid onto him, her pussy hot and wet and just as gorramn hungry as her mouth.
Jayne pistons his hips, matching her pace as Inara starts to ride him. Yeah, he thinks; he could get used to this fancy-dress thing. If it makes her happy -- and it makes her horny -- he'll wear the suit every day.
--
The more he watches Inara, the more Jayne sees something in her that surprises him. It isn't just her body; no, her body's gorramn excellent, but that's not exactly a surprise anymore. It's more the look in her eyes that surprises him, and the way she squares her shoulders: all the ways she reminds him she's as tough as he is.
It makes Jayne realize why he started to want her in the first place. Sure, there was her body, and sure, there was wanting to show the Captain up for the half-man he is, but... Jayne likes women who can keep up with him -- women who can give him a run for his money. Inara's that woman. She's sexy, and she's smarter than she is, but more than that, she's steel under all those fancy clothes.
It takes a lot to make Jayne respect anyone, but she's earned it.
--
It's a long ride through the dust, but finally they're at the homestead. By the time Jayne climbs out and opens the door of the truck for Inara, his ma's already on the porch, beaming. "Jayne! Oh, it's good to see you in one piece, dear. And is this your lady?"
"I sure hope she's my lady," he says, his grin childish; he's always known how lucky he is, but with his ma it's impossible to hide. "Ma, this is Inara Serra."
"It's a real pleasure, Mrs. Cobb," says Inara, with her best Sihnon smile as she shakes Ma's hand. She's dressed in a simple gingham sundress -- not so different from his ma's, if it cae down to it -- but she wears it like a queen. She's a dust-bowl rose, and yet you'd never know she wasn't from this blasted place.
Jayne's feeling some things he's finding a hard time naming.
"C'mon in out of the wind," says his ma. "Matty's setting the table for supper. You'll have to tell us everything..."
"'course, Ma." Well, not everything; Ma doesn't exactly need to know about the shootin', and she's probably better off without the fuckin', either. But all the rest he'll tell, and tell gladly. With Inara on his side, even the dust seems friendly.
--
When Inara announces she's leaving the ship, Jayne feels numb and stupid, by degrees. After all, it was all just his daydreams... his imagination goin' wild, nothing else. She never gave him a second glance, and he never gave her any cause to. He didn't even mean any of it, really.
Still, he's gonna miss her: the dresses, the flashes of skin... and the right to dream about something a little bigger than his daily cycle of shootin' and drinkin'. It wasn't just Inara being his kind of woman that he was dreaming about; it was himself being Inara's kind of man. It was a nice feeling, bein' decent for once.
In the end, Jayne puts it aside; he tries his best not to live with regret, and he's sure as Hell not regretting something that didn't even happen. Besides, he'll always have the daydreams...
... and maybe, if he's quiet about it, Kaylee won't mind bein' stared at ever so often.
Author:
eiviiaruRating: NC-17
Warnings: Vanilla hetsmut, not always with the nicest euphemisms ever (this is Jayne Cobb we're talking about, after all)
Word count: 1216
Summary: Jayne's imagination runs away with him.
Prompt: Firefly, Jayne/Inara: fantasies - Inara was too good at putting herself together to ever fall out of her fancy dresses, but he could dream, damnit!
A/N: There's a little less porn and a little more woobie here than I intended when I picked up the prompt; sorry about that. Also, this is my first time writing Firefly, so I apologize if the slang comes off badly or if characters are butchered.
Jayne's never been much of a daydreamer by nature, but for Inara, he's willing to make an exception. It starts to be like a game to him -- every new outfit means a new flight of fancy... a new distraction from the same old ship and the same old crew.
It's more fun than he expects.
--
Of course Jayne stares. Why shouldn't he? He's been waiting all night for that frilly thing Inara's wearing to give in, and when it does, he figures he's earned a good ogle.
Under it, like he'd guessed, she's not wearing a thing, and her tits are perfect: not the biggest he's ever seen, but big enough, with a natural shape to beat every modded-up dance-hall girl in the 'verse. Her nipples are dark and already stiff, and it's then that Jayne realizes: she hasnt attempted to cover herself, and she's staring just as hard at him as she is at her.
"Jayne," Inara says, her voice pure sex. "Do you really think this was an accident?" She steps close enough for him to smell her perfume: some kind of flower, sweet and strong.
He doesn't answer; he's a man of action, and right now the action is clear.
--
Jayne knows the Captain has it all wrong about whores.
To the Captain, a whore's someone to spit on -- a woman so low she's almost a thing, all because she sells her body. But who doesn't sell their bodies? If it's not for fucking, it's for plowing or hauling or, Hell, for shooting. Jayne's sold his body all his life; he doesn't have any other stock in trade, and neither do most of the outer-worlders he's known. So what if Inara's from somewhere nicer?
To Jayne, a whore's a woman selling what she has to sell, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's a service that comes with an understanding: she'll give you what you paid for, and you'll treat her nice while she's workin' for you. Maybe the Captain understands that much, but just because there's no cash on the barrelhead doesn't mean Inara isn't working for him. Least he could do is keep up his end of the bargain.
Jayne knows that if he ever had the cash -- or the goodwill -- to have Inara working for him, he'd sure as Hell treat her nice.
--
"Was about gorramn time to get out of that monkey suit."
Jayne tugs at his tie as soon as they're in the hotel room, and Inara just laughs. This far along, she knows him well enough to know how he feels about dress-up, and he knows her well enough to know just how much humoring her desire for evenings out pays off. Three hours of incomprehensible core-world theater is nothing compared to the feeling of her tits on his back and her arms around his neck, undoing his tie from behind.
Gettin' into the monkey suit is torture, but gettin' out of it is bliss.
Once the tie's off, Jayne strips his jacket off and turns around, all the better to watch Inara work on her own clothes. She's wearing satin, in some kind of light purple with a fancy name, but all he cares about is how it shimmers and pools around her as she eases down the straps and works the zipper. He fumbles with his own buttons; her beauty's like a pistol-whipping. He can't wrap his mind around why she's with him. But he doesn't care.
By the time Inara's naked, he is too, and they fall on the bed together. Soon she's on top of him, kissing with a hunger that he can't help but match. His hands are on her hair, her tits, her sides -- but there's no run-up necessary tonight; almost before he knows it, he's up against the headboard and she's slid onto him, her pussy hot and wet and just as gorramn hungry as her mouth.
Jayne pistons his hips, matching her pace as Inara starts to ride him. Yeah, he thinks; he could get used to this fancy-dress thing. If it makes her happy -- and it makes her horny -- he'll wear the suit every day.
--
The more he watches Inara, the more Jayne sees something in her that surprises him. It isn't just her body; no, her body's gorramn excellent, but that's not exactly a surprise anymore. It's more the look in her eyes that surprises him, and the way she squares her shoulders: all the ways she reminds him she's as tough as he is.
It makes Jayne realize why he started to want her in the first place. Sure, there was her body, and sure, there was wanting to show the Captain up for the half-man he is, but... Jayne likes women who can keep up with him -- women who can give him a run for his money. Inara's that woman. She's sexy, and she's smarter than she is, but more than that, she's steel under all those fancy clothes.
It takes a lot to make Jayne respect anyone, but she's earned it.
--
It's a long ride through the dust, but finally they're at the homestead. By the time Jayne climbs out and opens the door of the truck for Inara, his ma's already on the porch, beaming. "Jayne! Oh, it's good to see you in one piece, dear. And is this your lady?"
"I sure hope she's my lady," he says, his grin childish; he's always known how lucky he is, but with his ma it's impossible to hide. "Ma, this is Inara Serra."
"It's a real pleasure, Mrs. Cobb," says Inara, with her best Sihnon smile as she shakes Ma's hand. She's dressed in a simple gingham sundress -- not so different from his ma's, if it cae down to it -- but she wears it like a queen. She's a dust-bowl rose, and yet you'd never know she wasn't from this blasted place.
Jayne's feeling some things he's finding a hard time naming.
"C'mon in out of the wind," says his ma. "Matty's setting the table for supper. You'll have to tell us everything..."
"'course, Ma." Well, not everything; Ma doesn't exactly need to know about the shootin', and she's probably better off without the fuckin', either. But all the rest he'll tell, and tell gladly. With Inara on his side, even the dust seems friendly.
--
When Inara announces she's leaving the ship, Jayne feels numb and stupid, by degrees. After all, it was all just his daydreams... his imagination goin' wild, nothing else. She never gave him a second glance, and he never gave her any cause to. He didn't even mean any of it, really.
Still, he's gonna miss her: the dresses, the flashes of skin... and the right to dream about something a little bigger than his daily cycle of shootin' and drinkin'. It wasn't just Inara being his kind of woman that he was dreaming about; it was himself being Inara's kind of man. It was a nice feeling, bein' decent for once.
In the end, Jayne puts it aside; he tries his best not to live with regret, and he's sure as Hell not regretting something that didn't even happen. Besides, he'll always have the daydreams...
... and maybe, if he's quiet about it, Kaylee won't mind bein' stared at ever so often.
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