gonna_live | (no subject)

(no subject)

Kaylee's standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, looking a little disgruntled.

"But what if I don't want it to be?"

He's still rubbing her neck.

A quiet sigh.

"Then I guess I go back to feelin' guilty and tryin' to tell myself this is for our own good." She pulls away. "I think there's a couple more things I could do tonight. You don't need to stay, though."

"Kaylee ..." He moves after her.

"I was planning to stay the night."

She looks up at him, a little uncertain.

A beat.

"If you wanted."

The words are hesitant; the voice isn't.

"The pallet's terrible," she says -- and she's hesitant where he isn't. "You'd be roughin' it."

"I don't mind."

He smiles, small and warm.

"Not if you're here."

She starts to move in --

-- and catches herself. "I'm a mess." Low, and a little wry. "Sorry."

He reaches out, and strokes a smudge on her cheek with his thumb.

"I don't mind," he repeats in a low murmur, and leans in to kiss her.

For a second -- but just a second -- she stiffens.

But then she leans against him, twining her arms around his neck.

His arms wind around her waist, gently pulling her close.

He doesn't break the kiss.

She whispers against his mouth, "You're gettin' even more grubby."

"Am I?" he murmurs, shifting to kiss the corner of her jawline. "Oh well."

"Mm." She tilts her head to give him better access, smiling. "Don't you care about that?"

"Not right now," he whispers against her neck.

Kaylee shivers a little, and trails her hands down his back; one hand slides under the hem of his shirt as she presses him back toward the bulkhead. "Don't start somethin' you're -- not prepared to finish."

One of his hands finds the small of her back, and the other traces across her shoulder blades, fingers spread and kneading.

"Oh," he breathes into the hollow of her collarbone, "I won't."

She fits herself flush against him. "Always such a -- tease. Takin' it slow."

"We're not ... in any rush."

His mouth finds hers again, and both his hands are suddenly busy with the hem of her shirt.

She pulls back a little -- just enough to let him lift her shirt over her head. "What if I am?"

He meets her gaze as her head comes free of the fabric.

"Are you?"

"Hell yes." With a bright grin.

He can't help it; he laughs.

And wraps an arm around her waist to pull her closer again.

Kaylee leans up and whispers in his ear, "Somethin' to be said for fast and dirty, handsome."

(Her hands are under his shirt again, and headed for his belt.)

"You may," he breathes into the pit of her throat, "have something there --"

One of his hands is sliding under her coverall where it hangs around her waist, and his mouth is warm against her skin and sliding downward.

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gonna_live - 2009-12-10 04:55 (UTC) - Expand

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