b l o o m . a n d . g r o w

Bloom and Grow
[by victoria p.]

Rating: adult

Summary: River longs for things she didn't know she wanted, and doesn't know how to have.

Notes: Written for Phaballa in the femslash07 ficathon. Thanks to luzdeestrellas for betaing.

Word count: 1,650 words

Date: March 14, 2007

On a ship the size of Serenity, secrets bloom like wildflowers; desires are hidden, words unspoken, left to echo in barely-silenced thoughts and quickly repressed feelings, a low-murmuring tide that rises, rises, rises, building to a crescendo that crashes into River's skin and blood and brain like a tsunami, until she's saturated, wet with longing for things she didn't know she wanted, doesn't know how to have.

The medications Simon gives her used to dull the sensations, muffle her responses, make her listless and wan, but with each new formulation, each tiny recalibration, her nerves are slowly coming alive again, like wires that haven't seen current in far too long sparking back to life, lighting her up from the inside out, soft and languid like the glow from a firefly on a humid summer night in her mother's garden. She´s aware of everything now, but it doesn´t hurt the way it used to, doesn´t make her want to hide; instead, like plants in full flower draw bees to drink their pollen, River is drawn out by the soft scent of jasmine perfuming the air around the shuttle when Inara bathes.

River sways with the motion of the ship, the rock and thrust of Inara's hips against her client's setting the rhythm of River's ebb and flow against her own hand, fingers sliding against slick flesh, need rising high until she can't contain it anymore, cries out with a low moan as she shakes apart in her bunk, pleasure for the first time instead of pain.

Simon's there before she's even finished coming down, Kaylee behind him, eyes wide and worried, hair sticking up at all angles.

River smiles in a way she means to be reassuring and says, "It's okay. I'm okay. My hands smell of the ocean."

Kaylee understands, even if Simon doesn't, and drags him away with a laughing backwards glance.

Soon, her own hands aren't enough to satisfy completely. She can still make the world go bright behind her eyes, flick and twist of her fingers at the right moment almost choking her with how good it feels, but she wants more, wants to share with someone else, wants the silky soft feel of someone else's skin against her fingers, beneath her lips.

She stands in the doorway of the shuttle, watching. She knows Inara knows she's there, but Inara continues on with what she's doing, smooth stroke of the brush through long dark hair spilling over her bare, pale shoulders.

River comes to stand behind her, meets Inara's dark eyes in the mirror, and watches patiently, hungrily, until Inara is done. When the brush is back in its place next to the heavy silver comb on the mirrored tray, and Inara has folded her neatly manicured hands on the vanity, River says, "Teach me."

Inara smiles, rises gracefully, and offers the chair to River, who sits, feeling the warmth from Inara's body against her thighs. She forces herself not to squirm.

This time, Inara brushes River´s hair, and after one or two sweet compliments on how fine it is, and how pretty, she works quietly, humming an old song under her breath, her thoughts calm as a wide blue lake River would like to swim in. Her body is on fire from every soft touch of Inara's hand, from the press of Inara's breasts against her back when she leans over River´s shoulder to pick up a barrette from the vanity, from the scent of jasmine rising from Inara's skin and hair.

She sits still when Inara lines her eyes with kohl and paints the lids with fine soft brushes and sponges, but her breathing is loud and ragged in her ears and her skin feels too tight, as if she's a ripe pomegranate ready to burst into seed if she isn't plucked soon.

When Inara leans in to line her lips in pink, River wraps her hand around Inara's wrist, skin soft and warm beneath her fingers as the satin of Inara's gown, and brings it to her mouth, pressing a kiss over the pale green veins.

"Meimei, what--"

"Teach me," River says again, swaying forward, angling her face up for a kiss.

Inara leans back, gaze dark and assessing.

River waits patiently, makes her face as open as she can, lips parted, chest heaving with the need rising in to flood them both. She thinks of offering money--she gets a cut of the take these days, now that she's a working part of the crew, and jobs have started rolling in again--but she doesn't know if it's an insult, or if the insult lies in not offering to engage her as a professional.

"You want to train to be a Companion?" Inara asks, taking River's hands and squeezing them.

"No. I want you to copulate with me." Inara's training asserts itself, because River can hear the sputter in her thoughts, but her face twitches for only a second before she smoothes it, gaze holding River's, searching. "No insult intended."

"None taken, meimei." Inara cups her cheek gently. "I'm flattered. But why?"

"Because you're beautiful, and I feel it in me, hot ache in my belly and wet rush between my thighs. An empty vessel, poured out and waiting to be filled again; a candle waiting for the match to light the flame." She turns her face into Inara's palm, presses her lips to it, lets her hair fall like a curtain across her face, holding herself still and ready for rejection. "Must I offer payment?" She rubs her hands on the soft cotton of her dress, pulling it taut over her thighs, trying to ignore the humming in her blood from the feel of Inara's skin against hers. "I have money."

Inara studies her for a long moment, and River glances at herself in the mirror, trying to see what Inara sees--eyes painted to look bigger, deeper, mouth wide as a bow, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, nipples pressing hard and sensitive against the inside of her dress, aching for the twist of fingers, the wet heat of Inara's mouth and tongue.

"No," Inara says, her voice a tea-scented whisper against River's cheek. "No payment. You can be my protégé. I'll teach you, and--"

River doesn't let her finish, covers her lips with her own, tasting green tea and lipstick and heat, the scent of jasmine and rice powder in her nose.

Inara pulls back, laughing, not at her and her ignorance, but with joy, the sound like the wind chimes that used to hang in Mother's rock garden on Osiris, elusive and beautiful. She leads River to the big, red satin-covered bed, and they lie on it together. Inara kisses her gently and slowly, her hands never dipping below River's neckline, thumbs rubbing over her collarbones, while River squirms closer, aching for contact, for the press and rub of hands and flesh against her body. She cups Inara's breasts, eager to touch, and Inara whispers, Slowly, slowly, mouth moving over the whorls of River's ear and then down the suddenly sensitive skin of her neck.

The touch of Inara's hair, fingers, breath, over River's skin raises goosebumps, and she thinks she might die of longing before Inara ever reaches her quim with those gentle, teasing hands.

"I want," she gasps, and, "Inara, please..." And Inara's laughter thrums through her like music, the low pulse between her legs a steady drumbeat.

Finally, Inara motions for her to remove her dress, and she shimmies out of it with graceless eagerness. The cool air in the shuttle makes her nipples ache, and she touches them desperately, closing her eyes and nearly swooning at the jolt of pleasure arcing from her breasts to her quim.

Inara quickens her pace then, bending herself to meet River's near-overwhelming need, and River can only writhe and gasp under the skilled touch of her fingers and lips, the surprising sharpness of teeth against her nipples, and a hand other than her own sliding between her legs to open her up and play a syncopated rhythm on her swollen, aching flesh.

She whimpers and keens, unashamed and desperate for the pleasure Inara's kisses and touches bring her, the twist and rub of her fingers finally making River burst open with light like a star exploding.

When she gets back to her room later, she takes her dress off again and looks at herself in the mirror--sheer red smears of lipstick on her neck, breasts, and belly like bruises she wishes she could make permanent, blossoms of desire she wishes she could pluck and keep in a vase on her dresser.

River learns how to make Inara melt and sigh, knows that it's real, no Companion's artifices clever enough to fool her when they're this close, her tongue lapping at slick pink flesh, three fingers twisting in and up inside Inara's body, making her hips rise off the bed--River feels all of it vibrating through her, echoed and magnified, like the sound of church bells in a valley, ringing off the mountains and the empty air.

She knows this abandon in her arms, at her touch, is different from what Inara's clients see--they get only what they pay for, which is use of her body and her understanding ear. With River, there are no sharp edges or angry words, the way there are between Inara and the captain, and no jealousy or fear of sin to cast shadows on the sanctity of who Inara is, or what she does--just the easy flow of two bodies becoming one flesh, broken bits slowly rubbing smooth. River gets Inara's love and her laughter, confidences exchanged in the humid dark space under the covers that smells of perfume and sex, of Inara and River together.

It's yet another secret blooming inside Serenity's cradling walls, and one River happily keeps.

end

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