Fic: Death By Freckles
Feb. 4th, 2006 09:50 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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firefly_fanficTitle: Death By Freckles
Author: me! (maantre)
Summary: Who would have thought freckles could be so dangerous?!
Rating: PG-13 (nothing terribly naughty, unless your imagination prefers it to be [wink])
Pairing: a touch Jaylee, but nothing concrete.
Spoilers/Timeline: pretty much open for interpretation
Disclaimer: I don't own the 'verse, but I'm having a lot of fun with it!
Author's Note: Don't really know too much about communities and the like, but I'm trying to learn!
Of all the things that he’d imagined would be the end of him, of all the scenarios he’d seen in his mind, he couldn’t have possibly anticipated this.
Not in a million years.
Freckles.
She was covered in gorram freckles.
From head to toe, they were splattered on every inch of her creamy skin, as if limbs and the sun had kissed each one into being.
Every bit of her!
How the hell was a man supposed to concentrate when he could see those tiny tan specks at the hollow of her throat, where her coveralls lay open and the neck of her tank top didn’t quite cover. Weren’t like little Kaylee to show a lot of skin, but turned out she didn’t have to – weren’t much of her not graced with the distracting little spots of his doom.
He honestly hadn’t meant to surprise her in the shower, and he intended to stick to that defense until his death (which might turn out to be a lot sooner than he’d hoped). But he’d flung open the bathing dorm door and caught sight of her there, dressed (if you could consider it that) in nothing but teeny white shorts and tank top made very nearly transparent with the moisture clinging to her skin. Her mouth had dropped open in shock, and she’d immediately whirled away, doing her best to cover up.
Hadn’t helped.
If anything, made it worse.
The shorts ended a good way above the curve of her backside, and her still dripping hair just made her shoulders look all the more incredible.
“J-Jayne!” She’d squeaked, no doubt horrified beyond belief. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“Fixing to take a shower, I guess.” He’d managed without too much tremor in his voice, and did his best to stop staring at her ass. His gaze lingered on her creamy shoulders, where he spotted a deeper concentration of bronzed spots against the steam (and probably embarrassment) flushed skin. He followed them down the back of her right arm, realizing slowly that the trail didn’t stop – each freckle was a connecting dot to another, and another, all the way down her body. Shoulders to back, at the skin peeking from her waist, and his favorite one of all (damnable freckles, the death of him!) peeking out from under the edge of the shorts, low on the curve of her left butt cheek.
His eyes kept right on sealing his death warrant as she struggled for words and a way out of the situation that didn’t involve turning around.
For such a tiny thing, her legs seemed impossibly long, yawning from firm thighs and slightly knobby knees to smoothly muscled calves and delicate ankles. And not to be left out, the freckles had continued their journey down to the floor.
“Jayne, can you please get the hell out of here?!” She finally settled on yelling, and it started him from his trance…the patterns and swirls had transfixed him, about as much as the thought of tracing down each and every one with fingers first, then tongue…
“Jayne!” She hollered again, this time over her shoulder (arms now wrapped tightly over her chest…and was that laughter in her voice?) and he’d instantly obeyed, nearly throwing himself out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. Leaning against the cool metal, he cursed himself viciously. Should have made a joke, should have said something outrageously lewd that she could have taken as a joke and then ignored – should have acted like the Neanderthal they all took him to be instead of staring like a lovesick schoolboy (ok, so maybe more like a lewd lovesick schoolboy, but that didn’t make it any better!).
He was imagining the thick folds of the coveralls sliding over her steam slicked skin, covering up those devious, sneaky little freckles of death…it was making him all kinds of uncomfortable. Then the door was moving beneath him, and he stepped back quickly as she came through along with a thick cloud of rolling steam.
She was dressed now, thank the gods, but her hair was still wet and dripping onto the coveralls, onto the floor, and he struggled with the urge to feel it. She smiled brightly up at him (close enough for him to spot the faint one on her chin), eyes not quite matching the innocence of her lips, and unzipped no more or less than normal. His stomach sank as he caught sight of one perfectly round drop just over the curve of her right breast.
“Good thing you didn’t walk in 2 minutes ago,” she said lightly and couldn’t resist a wink. She was still slightly pink (more from the warmth of the room than from embarrassment, honestly, but not about to admit it to him) and breezed by him without another word, heading to her bunk to do whatever other feminine rituals followed bathing. He swallowed thickly and hurried into the shower room and closed the door firmly shut.
Weren’t fair for a man, death by freckles.
Weren’t a bit of pride in that ending.
He’d disrobed reluctantly, and turned the faucets on full blast – the coldest water he could wring from the fixtures. It was only a matter of time before he did something stupid and woke up again behind the thick doors of the air lock with a murder-hungry Captain at the controls.
“Damn freckles,” he muttered, taking a palm of soap and scrubbing it violently over his scalp, over his face and neck.
He was still swearing loudly to himself, and didn’t hear the smooth click of the bath door opening once more - nor the giggling whispers that followed it.
Author: me! (maantre)
Summary: Who would have thought freckles could be so dangerous?!
Rating: PG-13 (nothing terribly naughty, unless your imagination prefers it to be [wink])
Pairing: a touch Jaylee, but nothing concrete.
Spoilers/Timeline: pretty much open for interpretation
Disclaimer: I don't own the 'verse, but I'm having a lot of fun with it!
Author's Note: Don't really know too much about communities and the like, but I'm trying to learn!
Of all the things that he’d imagined would be the end of him, of all the scenarios he’d seen in his mind, he couldn’t have possibly anticipated this.
Not in a million years.
Freckles.
She was covered in gorram freckles.
From head to toe, they were splattered on every inch of her creamy skin, as if limbs and the sun had kissed each one into being.
Every bit of her!
How the hell was a man supposed to concentrate when he could see those tiny tan specks at the hollow of her throat, where her coveralls lay open and the neck of her tank top didn’t quite cover. Weren’t like little Kaylee to show a lot of skin, but turned out she didn’t have to – weren’t much of her not graced with the distracting little spots of his doom.
He honestly hadn’t meant to surprise her in the shower, and he intended to stick to that defense until his death (which might turn out to be a lot sooner than he’d hoped). But he’d flung open the bathing dorm door and caught sight of her there, dressed (if you could consider it that) in nothing but teeny white shorts and tank top made very nearly transparent with the moisture clinging to her skin. Her mouth had dropped open in shock, and she’d immediately whirled away, doing her best to cover up.
Hadn’t helped.
If anything, made it worse.
The shorts ended a good way above the curve of her backside, and her still dripping hair just made her shoulders look all the more incredible.
“J-Jayne!” She’d squeaked, no doubt horrified beyond belief. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“Fixing to take a shower, I guess.” He’d managed without too much tremor in his voice, and did his best to stop staring at her ass. His gaze lingered on her creamy shoulders, where he spotted a deeper concentration of bronzed spots against the steam (and probably embarrassment) flushed skin. He followed them down the back of her right arm, realizing slowly that the trail didn’t stop – each freckle was a connecting dot to another, and another, all the way down her body. Shoulders to back, at the skin peeking from her waist, and his favorite one of all (damnable freckles, the death of him!) peeking out from under the edge of the shorts, low on the curve of her left butt cheek.
His eyes kept right on sealing his death warrant as she struggled for words and a way out of the situation that didn’t involve turning around.
For such a tiny thing, her legs seemed impossibly long, yawning from firm thighs and slightly knobby knees to smoothly muscled calves and delicate ankles. And not to be left out, the freckles had continued their journey down to the floor.
“Jayne, can you please get the hell out of here?!” She finally settled on yelling, and it started him from his trance…the patterns and swirls had transfixed him, about as much as the thought of tracing down each and every one with fingers first, then tongue…
“Jayne!” She hollered again, this time over her shoulder (arms now wrapped tightly over her chest…and was that laughter in her voice?) and he’d instantly obeyed, nearly throwing himself out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. Leaning against the cool metal, he cursed himself viciously. Should have made a joke, should have said something outrageously lewd that she could have taken as a joke and then ignored – should have acted like the Neanderthal they all took him to be instead of staring like a lovesick schoolboy (ok, so maybe more like a lewd lovesick schoolboy, but that didn’t make it any better!).
He was imagining the thick folds of the coveralls sliding over her steam slicked skin, covering up those devious, sneaky little freckles of death…it was making him all kinds of uncomfortable. Then the door was moving beneath him, and he stepped back quickly as she came through along with a thick cloud of rolling steam.
She was dressed now, thank the gods, but her hair was still wet and dripping onto the coveralls, onto the floor, and he struggled with the urge to feel it. She smiled brightly up at him (close enough for him to spot the faint one on her chin), eyes not quite matching the innocence of her lips, and unzipped no more or less than normal. His stomach sank as he caught sight of one perfectly round drop just over the curve of her right breast.
“Good thing you didn’t walk in 2 minutes ago,” she said lightly and couldn’t resist a wink. She was still slightly pink (more from the warmth of the room than from embarrassment, honestly, but not about to admit it to him) and breezed by him without another word, heading to her bunk to do whatever other feminine rituals followed bathing. He swallowed thickly and hurried into the shower room and closed the door firmly shut.
Weren’t fair for a man, death by freckles.
Weren’t a bit of pride in that ending.
He’d disrobed reluctantly, and turned the faucets on full blast – the coldest water he could wring from the fixtures. It was only a matter of time before he did something stupid and woke up again behind the thick doors of the air lock with a murder-hungry Captain at the controls.
“Damn freckles,” he muttered, taking a palm of soap and scrubbing it violently over his scalp, over his face and neck.
He was still swearing loudly to himself, and didn’t hear the smooth click of the bath door opening once more - nor the giggling whispers that followed it.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-05 03:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-05 04:45 am (UTC)muscles and soap and water and all kinds of mmm...[fans self]
best get to working on that, hum.
oh, and I LOVE your icon;)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-05 03:11 pm (UTC)