|Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact|
Beautiful EyesNotes: This is my very first story, so it's kind of near and dear to me.
We are arguing. Again. It seems like all we ever do lately. It's never really about anything, just him being him, and me being me.
When his hand reaches out and cups the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, bringing his face within inches of mine, I flinch. I'm just not expecting it, he moves so damn fast and quiet for such a large man. The smell of him envelops me - tobacco from that stupid cigar he chews, sweat, oil from his guns, and that indefinable scent that is simply...him.
"Stop it, Jayne," I say. Trying not to show how much the hand on my neck is disturbing me, hoping he didn't notice the flinch.
"Do you really want me to stop?" he asks me. I can tell by the tone of voice that he noticed. Damn.
Unbidden, I remember that he once told me that I had a pretty mouth, during that disaster, months ago, on Ariel, when he betrayed me, us. I had forgiven him, he had proven himself over and over since that "momentary lapse in judgement," as the Captain likes to call it, but sometimes it still stings. I shake off the memory, wondering why it came to mind at all. Looking up into his eyes, I suddenly realize that those clear blue-grey eyes that go dark and hard as steel when he's angry and twinkle like stars when he's playing a prank, those eyes that are currently searing my soul, are more than pretty, they are beautiful.
I open my mouth to say, "Yes, stop it," but instead I hear myself say, "No," as I wrap my hands in his t-shirt, the awful green one that he wears far too often, that fits him so well, defining the muscles in his chest, back, and arms. I pull him closer and as I capture his lips with mine, those eyes, those beautiful expressive eyes, first widen in surprise, then darken with desire when I wrap my arms around him, press my body against his, and deepen the kiss.