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Jayne always comes to a whore house to do this, even though it means he has to pay for both the room and a whore he doesn‘t much need. Still, some things should be done proper. His rotten luck that Serenity made landfall this time round on a planet that fancied itself a bit more civilized than their usual haunts. This meant they charged him extra for one he could tie up to keep her out of the way. Jayne doesn’t think over much of civilized.
He did have to admit, the woman was a bit prettier than he was used to, but any good will that had bought her faded quickly enough. She was just so gorram grabby, running her hands over his chest, down his back, touching him, even as he retrieved the rope from his bag. The first thing he’d done with it was tie those grasping hands behind her back, but that didn’t really stop her, only slowed her down. She still looked at him, leaned meaningfully in his direction, even tried to crawl after him at one point. It is with great relief that he ties off the last knot, leaving her unable to move or see or speak. Now he can finally begin to relax.
He strips off his clothes and makes use of the very fine shower this fancy-pants brothel provided. Finally something worth the extra he had been forced to hand over. He washes away the dirt and sweat of their last job, the grime of weeks spent in the black, and the stress of dealing with the whore. It is right that he should approach this clean.
After a quick dry, he stands by the bed where he has placed his bag and carefully removes Vera from her resting place, along with a silk scarf he bought off a twig of a girl several systems back for the bargain price of half his lunch ration. He carries them over to the room’s only other piece of furniture, and lays the scarf out on the small table before placing his beautiful gun squarely in the center, and settling himself on the stool. The wood is cold and hard against his bare back-side, but that isn’t important. Vera looks mighty comfortable sitting there on her silk
He reaches out and runs his hand down her fine shape from barrel to stock, appreciating every curve, fixing her perfection in his memory. Then he begins the slow and treasured task of taking her apart. As each piece comes away in his hands, it exposes more of her inner surfaces for him to caress with light finger tips, and he revels in delving her inner places, ones that are reserved just for him. For a while all thought ceases, and he is one with the gorgeous Lady under his hands.
When she lays stripped to her basic parts, naked before him, he retrieves a bottle of oil from the bag on the bed. Just for her, best he could find. With a contented sigh he begins, anointing each piece in turn. His hands know her so well, each line, each curve, he retraces them all, seeking out each speck of dust and grain of sand that has sought to mar her perfection, and smoothing it away. Making his girl perfect again.
By the time he finishes his breath is coming in pants, the excitement of touching her like this is zinging along his skin and dancing in his belly, but he keeps his hands steady, his grip gentle, as he begins the even more amazing task of putting her back together. Watching her take shape beneath his care always makes him a bit dizzy. The heady rush of seeing her form appear before him is made even more intoxicating by the knowledge it was done at his hands. Every inch of her, laid bare to him moments before, now formed by him, into something with the kind of grace and beauty he knows he can never posses in any other way.
When the last piece has been lovingly slotted into place, he pauses for a moment to gaze at her perfection, to enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done. But he can only wait a moment, desire coiled so tight within him, that his arm nearly leaps from his side as he reaches out for her, cupping his hand in a caress, feeling how perfectly she fits his palm as he raises her from the table.
Lao tian, it feels so good to hold her like this. All that power, graceful, deadly, beautiful, fitted in his hand like she wants to be there, like she enjoys doing this for him as much as he does for her. He eases his finger onto the trigger, and can’t suppress a moan at the sensation. She is so good to him.
As the sound leaves his throat, it disturbs the whore in the corner where he left her, and she shifts, turning in his direction as much as the ropes will allow. Bitch is still trying to insinuate herself into his private moment. Hot anger washes over him. How dare she claim any of this glorious moment for herself! It is a matter of two long steps to cross the room, pressing Vera up against a painted cheek. The whore goes still instantly, and Jayne swells with smug pride. His precious Lady won’t stand for any rivals to his attentions, and she can fight her own battles.
He feels another groan bubbling up the back of his throat at the picture presented before him. His Lady, hard and unyielding in her anger, the fear on the face of the whore, that can’t quite be hidden behind the cloth in her mouth and over her eyes. For a moment, he imagines pulling the trigger and letting his Lady’s anger free. All that power in such a comely package, all sitting in his hand awaiting his signal. He knows just how much pressure to apply, which muscles in will get used, how the kick will reverberate up his arm. At this angle it would leave him sore for days.
He gulps in another breath, his grip still rock steady as he allows himself a small wiggle of the finger against the trigger, just enough to…. The world goes white, and the blood rushes in his ears as the sensation causes an entirely different weapon to fire on the form bound at his feet.
Jayne smirks as he turns away, his aim as good with that ammunition as it is with any other. The whore is now streaked with white across her face and chest, but not one drop to dirty the perfection of his lovely Vera. He packs her away carefully in his bag, before hurriedly dressing himself.
He pauses with one hand on the door knob. In one of his usual back-room flea-traps, he would cut the whore loose, maybe even give her a cloth to clean up with before her next customer, least he could do. But here in these fancy civilized parts, he figures they got people for that. He leaves her just the way she is, and he’s whistling as he closes the door behind him, imagining the sight he has left for them snooty bastards to find.