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The Way of Jayne, Part 11

His twin sister, Timmie, had a double armfull of Jayne almost quicker than she coulda wished, on account of the siblings teetered on their four feet, almost toppling to the dirt near the porch of the house. Jayne whooped and the girl thwapped him hard on the back, causing airborne dust that'd clung to his old coat on the cattle-drive homeward to billow out like steam off a teapot. His sister sneezed big, the only way she seemed to ever know how to do it, and kissed Jayne's stubbled cheek resoundingly, reaching a finger and thumb up to pinch the other side of his handsome man's face, laughing yelp-like as he ouched like it actually hurt.

The words were almost out of her mouth before their ma ran out on the porch behind them, her hands drying themselves on a worn grease-spotted apron, "Jayne! Boy, what in the name of a zhu tou is all them cows doin' here?" Timmie turned her already open mouth into a wide smile, nudged Jayne's big body toward their ma for a hug, and went on into the house to see about the other kids getting up and outside to join in the reunion.

"They're mine, ma. I earned 'em. My boss pulled up stakes and left sudden-like and the cows was still at the place we'd been workin', so they ain't nobody else to claim 'em." His arms around his ma's back in a big cuddle, he bent down almost in half, lowered one hand to the back of her thighs to lift her up off her tired feet like she weighed less than Maeve's cat. Her son spun slowly in place on the board floor of the porch as she laughed and held a work-wrinkled hand to her hair, head thrown back in stricken glee. Jayne stopped their rotation, carried the slight woman down the steps to the makeshift corral outside and the lowing bovines maneuvering inside it for best position. The cattles' noses raised to scent the new environs, tongues lolling or licking out as buttery mooing lowed in the morning air. Ma took her hands down from her wispy smoke-colored hair to link ten fingers around her eldest son's neck and hug him close, eyelids lowered, nose in the sweat of his neck, taking the whole of him in by feel and scent alone. "Jayne? This is a fortune in beef. You ain't in no trouble, baby, tell me it ain't that..."

"Nah, ma, we're good. I tell ya, Wood Harbinger ain't got no need for them cattle. Consider it my last paycheck, and a bonus too, for all the work I did and all the abusin' I took offa his sorry hide." Jayne's big good-natured grin paled a bit at speaking ill of the recently gruesome dead, but he covered it by clearing his throat, coughing and spitting wetly into the dust. His sister Timmie came back out of the house just in time to see the emotion play across her twin's face, logged a mental note to have the full story outta him later, but not too much later, because it'd been too long by about two weeks since they'd talked about anything at all.

"Put my mother down, you big pile o' cattle rustler, and start talking."

Jayne sucked air, eyes widened as he looked to see if their ma had registered what Timmie'd called him. Criminal activity weren't something the Cobb matriarch would cotton to and her acceptance of the new largesse depended on her seeing innocense, not guilt. He was saved by his ma's apparently not having eyes nor ears for anything but rapt examination of the cattle as she counted off the herd's number on her fingers. A bemused smile at their good fortune took over her face wreathing it in happiness, lines of care and worry easing considerably. The beef would buy a lot of everyday living for their big family and maybe even a modicum of special-like treats. Her eldest son's endeavors had been a blessing to them all once again.

"Gimme some distance, ya dang fool," Jayne mutttered secretively from the side of his mouth in his sister's general direction. "Aight?" Ma turned her head back their way at his exclamation and smiled at Timmie's nearly choking the big boy-man in another fierce hug. Jayne loosed his sister's hold, wrapped the fingers of one big hand around her bicep clad in brown and orange calico and tugged her bodily to the other side of the decrepit corral. His other hand snatched up a coil of threadbare rope hanging off a post as he lumbered along. Far enough away from their mother's ears, he began talking quietly as they worked with the rope and hands in tandem to secure the worst part of the wooden fencing against possible bovine escape.

"I ain't done nothin' wrong, Timmie. Those as lost a cow or two could well afford to lose 'em, don't you worry none. And, 'sides, you know gorram ruttin' well this family's needful of food and coin." He cleared his throat of dust by way of hawking up and spitting, Timmie's feet dodging the ball of moisture barely in time, her closed fist colliding with his shoulder in recompense. He laughed, "You hit like a girl, always did, mei mei."

"I'm your little sister by only a few minutes, Jayne Cobb, and don't you ever forget it! I can take you in a fair fight, or if I think you're gonna start a fair fight, or if I just plain feel like it, any day of the week." Her twin brother laughed deep and merrily, his eyes crinkling at the corners, trail dust outlining the now faint smiling wrinkles that would one day be much deeper grooves.

Timmie checked their mother's position across the corral before continuing the pertinent parts of the conversation. "Boss is dead, neh? That how you got them cattle? No huge loss to the community, if he is. I asked around town about your goodly employer, got told the man's got no regard for nothin' but cashy money, has an ornery cussed way about him. Ain't no way he'd leave all that coin on the hoof to fall into anybody else's hands less'n he was takin' a dirt nap."

The rawboned young woman's final two words were so close to the truth of how Jayne had disposed of his remains as to cause the big man to shiver at the memory of the sight and sound of barn dirt falling on his former boss's skinned corpse in the shallow grave beneath the haypile. "I ain't like ta open my pie hole about any particulars, Girl. Let's just say Wood Harbinger ain't got no need for cows nor coin where he's gone to." His hands blindly continued securing the broken corral struts as his steely blue eyes stared instead at the odd double-cross brand on the flank of each cow. Wood had taught him how to brand, to rope, ride herd, shoot like the hand of God. He owed the walking pile of go-se his respect for the training and for the largesse that death had bestowed on the Cobb's.

"I'll think about that gratitude go se later, gorramit."

"Whatcha say, Jayne?"

"Nothin', Idjit. Just keep tightening up the rope, there, for the love o' yi dian an jing while I tie the ends off, will ya?"

The job was finished in no time, the twins making a circuit of the construction to make sure the beasts couldn't bust their way to freedom. If the cows were lost, the Cobb's would end up having only the bitter taste of dust in their mouths once again. Work done, the big siblings framed their ma, one on each arm, linking their elbows through hers and making a sturdy seat of the remaining two. They carried her that way, laughing like robins in springtime, back up the stairs into the house.

Mattie sat on the floor in the parlour stacking blocks of wood painted with rudimentary alphabet letters as tall as could be placed. The triplets, Paul, Peter and Mary vied for the privilege of extending a chubby grubby hand to knock the towers of lumber to the ground, Mattie fending off six determined sibling limbs as best he could. The middle Cobb boy-protector laughed as Mary's reaching fingers won the game, smacking the middle of the pile, earning the sound of wood chunks clattering dully. "Woot!," she chortled, a smug look on her toddler face as she looked from Paul to Peter in an apparent-adult expression of victory. She often appeared older than her months of living, a bit ahead of the two boys in their triplet set.

Mattie looked up at the human tripod entering the door. He gained his feet to go hug his big strong brother along his side, since that was all that was available until ma was allowed to stand unaided again.

"I'm gonna go look at the cows. Y'all got guard duty on the three floor rats?," he craned his head back behind him toward the three who were each trying their best to fit a wooden block inside each other's mouths.

"You go ahead, Honey," Ma sailed the words out around a fullsome smile, her hand coming from around Jayne's neck to wave her middle son off. "Put me down, young un's, now, you hear? An old lady's got work to do."

The siblings complied, chaired arms settling her gently to her knitted slippers. "Ain't nothin' old about ya, Ma, 'cept for that rag of a flour sack dress you're sportin'. Gonna get you a party dress with some of the proceeds of the cattle, see if we don't." The woman ducked her head with a secret hopeful smile, gave a final pat to the side of her silver-haired bun and stalked toward the kitchen. "Mattie? Go on out and get that pork hanging out in the shed. We'll have Jayne's favorite meal tonight."

"That sweet and sour pig stuff, ma?," Jayne asked, eyebrows raised in question as his stomach grumbled and ached from weeks of Wood's far-worse-than-standard burnt crock cooking.

"The very same, Baby." She smiled at him, shaking her head at the sudden boyish expression on the beard-stubbled face of her all-grown-up son. 'I'll never see him as anything but a boy six summers old,' she thought wistfully as she tugged root vegetables from a nearby bin, washing and cutting them up for the feast.

~~~

Late that night Jayne Cobb crawled belly down out of the top bunk as quiet as could be, looking to escape the bed, the room and the house without waking up either his twin sister Timmie in the bottom bunk or brother Mattie asleep in a bed along the far wall. His long narrow foot stretched downward, questing in the darkness, toes pointed as he sought the floor. He grunt-yelped and muffled it barely in time as he felt a warm strong hand wrap around his ankle like a constrictor reptile.

"Where do ya think you're goin' and how did ya think I wasn't gonna know about it when ya finaly made to leave?," Timmie scoffed at him in the midst of her quiet tinkling laughter. "Ya been makin' pleasured noises that sound like repeated letter "m's" for the last hour and a half, plus ya been rotating up there enough ta make me feel like we been at sea." She pantomimed tossing and turning and commenced making a gutteral, "Mmmmm, BABY...", all the while with eyes closed, peering from beneath long feminine lashes.

Jayne snorted at her astute observations. "Ain't never been able to keep nothin' from ya, Timmie. If I tell, will ya let go of my dadburn ankle so I can get down, you fei fei de pi yan? The skin's rubbing offa my belly leaning here against the wood frame."

She loosed her hold on him and waited till he dropped astoundingly softly, for such a big man, next to the bunkbed, folded his large frame and sat on the edge of her mattress. "Belly rubbin' is what I think you're of a mind to go lookin' for, Jayne Cobb, but not the kind as can be administered by wood, exactly." It was her turn to snort and then chortle with quiet laughter as she went further. "Though I'm pretty sure wood will be involved in the belly rubbin'..."

Her twin grabbed her pinkie toe that peeked out from under the quilt and turned it clockwise just enough for her to squeal as she fruitlessly pulled at his relentless grasping. She used her free foot to jab a calloused heel into his ribs in retribution. The silent desparate scuffle had them both laughing as quietly as they could, fearful of waking the adolescent sibling nearby.

"Aight, Timmie, now shut up your foolishness and listen, yeah?" He released her toe and nudged her heel off his ribs with the other hand.

"Dang ran, Jayne. I'll make this easy on you." He paused, hopeful that the ready story he'd concocted in case somebody caught him heading out tonight would work against his shrewd sister's scrutiny.

All hope died as she whispered, "Maeve Burlee, ain't it?" Timmie watched his eyes, her gaze catching first a widening, then narrowing and finally softening into a room darkened blue smile, corners crinkling charmingly. "I..."

"Don't bother to try a story on me, Jayne Cobb. I've known the smell of your particular brand of go-se ever since it floated around before we were born."

His raised brows shot nearly into his hair as he threw his head back, clapped one large hand over his mouth and laughed till he hit a coughing fit. The big man had to double forward to catch his breathing back. Timmie turned her face into the pillow and choked her own glee back down, their mutual amusement feeding laugh upon laugh till twin diaphragms ached with spasms that wouldn't seem to end. Relief came suddenly when young Mattie stirred in his sleep, half-laughing too, though not even really awake, by the sound of it. Just to be sure the younger boy hadn't heard her words that had been intended for older ears, she called his name and when he didn't answer, she looked back to Jayne.

He was wiping laugh-tears from his face with the back of one hand.

"Good thing you took a bath before dinner, Jayne, or else you'd have salt water runnels through smeared dirt on your face and more sod just about everywhere else from the cattle driving. A medical-minded woman like Maeve appreciates a man who's clean, surely."

"Yeah, 's only right to treat a lady like a lady," he said. "Ma would tan the hide offa me if I didn't know that lesson, if nothing else." He leaned forward off the mattress, straightened his spine and grabbed his broad brimmed felt hat off the bedpost.

"See ya, Timmie. Tell ma I won't be back for breakfast."

~~~

Jayne rushed toward Maeve's place, hooves of his favorite bay horse thocking like percussion instruments on the hardscrabble earth. He felt pent-up yearnings for her body, groin tightening, his staff leaping at the thought of where he wanted to house it.

Her door was unlocked when he got to the little cabin. He figured she knew he was comin' her way. Woman was a reader, always knew his whereabouts. He walked on in the house, toed his boots and socks off at the door, smiling, knowing of her waiting, warm and soft and willing, in that big high bed of hers.

"Baby, I'm here." They said the words in unison, him calling toward her bedroom where he thought she was, but her soft voice came from the big sofa near the embers glowing in the fireplace. Jayne drew in a bellows-full breath as he saw her rose hued skin, all of it, laid bare on the material of the couch, flame red of her hair vying with the fireplace for supremacy, daring the heat of the fire to compete with what the woman provoked in the young man's loins.

He came to her in two huge strides, hand dragging his hat off to toss on top of the dodging piebald cat on the heartrug, both his hands at the buttons of his nightshirt tucked into britches. Hurried hands slid suspenders down off broad shoulders as the reclining odalisque stared at him, rapt with adoration, arms slowly sliding down her own curves to land her ten fingers between spread white thighs. Sweat broke out on her stripping lover's brow as he stared hard at her trailing fingers' path.

Maeve Burlee, town midwife and herb woman, held the outer lips of her nethers open with a thumb and third finger as her middle digit circled her clit along the right side, the most sensitive portion of her anatomy. Jayne found himself suddenly incapacitated as he struggled with the rampant state of his manhood impeding his fingers' progress. Situation wasn't helped by his refusing to look downward to aid in unbuttoning the work pants' fly. He hurried, continued the fumbling, cursing colorfully. The lovely vision on the couch wiped her wetly shining fingers on her own damp red curls and sat up, beckoning him to her with the same still-moist hand.

"Honey, come here and let me help you with that," she smiled at the double meaning and at his haste to drop to both knees hard enough to strike the thick piled rug with a sound like double billiard balls hitting a man's pate. If the hard and sudden connection hurt, he didn't act as if he felt it. No pain on that face, only reaction was nostrils flared to take in her scent deep, breath rushing loud, his eyes darkening to delft blue as his body temperature rose. He let his gaze travel the lush terrain of her from breasts to hips and back to her beloved Irish rose and cream face.

The older woman had his pants unbuttoned in between her measuring him through the material and then finally skin-on-skin when he was freed. Her touch worked to communicate desire even as she silently counseled patience and urged them both toward delayed satisfaction. "Maeve, I ain't all that interested in delay," he grated out through closed teeth as her slowly pistoning soft steel fist palmed him up, down, up again, her soft thumb cocking up over his tip to feel the bead of moisture, spreading it along the helmet-like head before her grip traveled back his long thickness toward the base.

The woman nodded her head, inhaled sharply and let the torture recommence. Her hand on him squeezed tight-tight around the root where he grew out of his pubic bone, soft fingers delving deep into muscle, tendons, brailling what she could never see. Her lover's length was hidden a good inch beneath the surface of his groin's skin. 'A shing yunn thing this don't add to what he's already packin' or he'd be feeling cold and orphaned for that last bit of shaft that won't fit inside. Ain't a woman alive 'could sheath the man fully as he is, not to mention if his all underneath was all out front.' She shivered as her fingertips pressed into him one final circuit, then trailed away from the unseen portion to grip him firmly. She took a leisurely trip back up his hardness to slide a circlet of velvety fingers around his crown.

Jayne unconsciously tilted his hips further up into Maeve's grasp from his spread-kneed stance on her carpet by the couch. He had a vague notion of Maeve's mind wondering as to what his shaft was like underneath where it attached to him, grunted a little smile at her as the woman delved her hard fingertips down into his flesh, massaging, feeling him, tasting the unseen portion with her thoughts plain on her face, also readable to Jayne by the pleasure in her grass-green eyes.

He drew back out of her grasp suddenly, his organ hard and straight up as her hand left him. He kept their gazes locked as big calloused fingers traveled from the side of her face down her neck, between her full white breasts and over to a rosy nipple, thumb and finger squeezing just enough, palm sliding below to cup her, hold her as her breath drew inward sharply at the touch of him. His lonely hips thrust almost imperceptively without her touch. The couch at his ribs protected his manhood from her hand still seeking to re-grasp and he chuckled long and low before leaning down still further to purse his lips above her soft breast. He opened his mouth, blew hot breath onto her, then allowed his tongue tip to touch her ruched ribbon of nipple crowning the creamy globe.

"Jayne...," she groaned softly to him from her arched throat, head tilted back into cushions, hips thrust forward in reaction to shards of ripping pleasure that shot from his touch on her breast directly to her mons, moistness factor doubling as his other hand played a soft arpeggio along her belly toward wet red curls below.

He touched her, fingers immediately soaked in her, hand swathed along one side by the folds of the woman he held at two points; his mouth at her breast, his hand inside her now. Jayne's hand sawed sideways lightly, slid and curved upward, his pinkie finger circling her button in the cul de sac of her as his hand curved up and out only to slide back down into the groove of her thighs. He tickled the meeting place as her breath came ever harder, and he held his other hand now flat on her belly, pressing down as he shifted his stance, crawled on knees to re-position himself at her crotch. Jayne's lowered mouth went to her spread legs, kissed the inside of one soft alabaster thigh, moved with hot breath to minister to the spot his hand had already claimed.

Maeve took handfuls of his hair, tugging briefly, not meaning to pull him away from where she sure enough wanted him, but more as encouragement for him to continue. Her fingers threaded through his thick soft hair, Jayne's own fingers walked along her hipbones then made a temporary home under her ass to tilt her up further to his mouth. The cup of her femininity was full, waiting with wanting for him, thickly moist from the simple expedient of earlier watching the young man undress. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of his woman before his mouth opened over her lower lips and drank Maeve in, tongue sliding down, down and down into her until his teeth and wide lips cupped her opening. The tip of his tongue went as deep as he could take it, and Maeve could barely take the joy of it. Her hips slammed up into his face, body stiffening.

"Lao tian ye," she pulled hard on his hair, screamed at the first penetration of his body into hers, this thing so right, so hot and heavy and all-consuming as he laved her, loved her, left his tongue inside her. He slid it slow, thick and slow up and out, pushing along her opening, tracing, then taking her again, tongue a slow and thorough piston inside Maeve's body. She shot her torso hard back into the couch and keened a woman's unmistakable satisfaction as her canal and outer folds sent new thick moisture onto, into Jayne's mouth. He swallowed her, left himself securely inside her, taking in the tiny flutters of her orgasm, then the ticking pulse of her inner walls that he'd felt by way of phallus connected another time, but never knew to be so clearly like an engine ramping down as it surely was just now. He smiled, still connected, lips pulling along her flesh, nudged his forehead back up and away from her a trifle, laving her folds with a tongue that now slid out of her, along her warm coral petals in a thankful caress for the pleasure she'd shown he could give her. Maeve gave his head freedom at last, her hands smoothing down the thick wavy hair, fingers tugging gently on one soft downy earlobe before falling limply onto the sofa.

The young man got slowly to his feet, his rising body a frame for the roused thick and long organ pointing like a compass arrow to his belly button. At least to where his belly button would be shown, were it not covered by the shaft's crown. His gaze measured the area of couch cushions at either side of Maeve Burlee's hips and he suited action to measurement by kneeling astride the woman, his left knee pressing deeply into the couch back, his other knee nipping at her waist, then sliding down, unbending, lower leg partially on the couch, partially bent to hang in midair.

The pleasured woman tilted her head, emerald eyes soft from cumming hard, stared lazily into his. All pretense of inactivity vanished as she looked down between their bodies to see the pole of him, crowned tip of him beaded with pearled precum, connecting him to the top of her cleft. He felt her tense, his eyes swept up to watch her face watching him do this thing to her, to watch him take her. He angled his hips down again, inches further, manhood sliding down, hips tuggging back up enough to wedge the tip inside her body.

Just that, nothing more.

Maeve stilled, precisely a statue, then slowly inexorably rose up below to meet him, though Jayne stopped her with a firm hand on her belly, pinning her down.

"Lemme play here a little, Darlin'," the big man urged, his strong hips sliding down to her a bare inch. In and out, sliding home but not enough, no by Buddha, not even a fraction of enough.

He took his time and their pleasure by degrees, no hurry, no worry, all teasing, all the time in the world for this, for them. He made his movements a half-moon pattern, darting in, taking it slow and shallow, sliding at her opening with his cocktip, now down at an angle, now straight in and out, probing just inside the walls of her. She grasped handfuls of the big square couch cushion beneath, labored with all she had to stay still, aided by his big spread hand pressing her belly down, his other hand cupping her lower back, tilting her up toward the deepening piercing.

"Jayne, gorramit, Babe, you're..."

His forehead broke out in more sweat runnels as he watched her, thick wand of him "seeing" what her body craved, delving deeper, just a little deeper, if anything as large as him could be said to be doing anything in a little way.

"What, Maeve? What am I?"

"You're, aieee, Honey, you're so she niou good at this, good for me, my gods, Lover, you're this much...," (thrusting in a little more) "shy..." (taking it deeper, an inch deeper) "of..." (probing insider her tunnel thickly) "killing me."

He was wet along the first half of him now from the cum he'd already provoked and so much more of her body's moisture escaped her inside and out as he continued the mutual torture session. He pulled his hand out from beneath her, his other hand releasing its hold on her belly, propped his big frame on elbows at her sides. Slid enough up off her body to take her throat in a soft hot kiss, sealing against her skin, tongue stroking gently, exactly the same ratio of rhythmic movement as the tip of shaft inside her below. The softness of him, gentle ministrations of mouth and tongue, shaft inside her nethers, it was all too much and not enough suddenly for even the guild-trained woman to take.

She cried out, tilted her hips up hard into his crotch, taking him inside her, sliding himself home into her with force of movement from the woman beneath taking charge, sending him charging fully into where she needed him. The yelled grunt from Jayne's throat at his own nearing completion crowded against the skin of her dove soft neck. Joined at the hips warm and wet and full of longing, they slid together and apart, home and away. Agonizing ecstacy of completion not far away now.

His back curled up and then angled down, hard planes of his belly meeting the soft concavity of her below. Tanned muscled man caressed soft creamy woman, hardness of his shaft cementing itself deep inside the comfort and heat of her sheathing him, his tip at her womb's opening.

Maeve crooned unintelligible love words to her Jayne, senses full of him, all five tangled up in him and what he was doing to her. She slid her hands up under his arms, the muscles of his back wrenching and sliding under her touch. As he filled her, loved her, she let a small look of sadness take over, a hint of loss at knowing they were this good together, but somehow it would have to end. The September of her years and the April of his own was not fair to Jayne. She knew it, felt it strong and sure, but shoved it away hard so as to keep the now for the graceful goodness that it was.

Jayne turned them on their sides, his arms under her shoulders sweeping her close to him sideways, her upper legs almost closing around his cock, his own legs spread around her hips. He angled in, thrust back out, her bottom shoving against the couch cushions in back as they went on and on with the dance. He reached a hand up to the back of her head, gripped her hair and tugged as she sucked in air and she kissed the side of his face, corner of his mouth as he bent to her. No kissing on the lips, she had to remind herself. She had no thoughts of the future, not now, not here, as he played and shifted, this way and that, union of their love-making wet and hot with friction and want and fraught with the pleasure of being one.

They came together, hot shooting of cum mixing with more of her own to rise up out of her, boiling out and moistening their thighs and her fingers that cupped the eggs of his balls tenderly. Jayne's hips continued to thrust gently a few more strokes, easy now, momentum lessening, but contrarily not wanting to completely cease the pleasurable paths they'd been traveling. Maeve's release went on and on, rolled inside her, rippled against the flesh invading her. His hand left her hair, fingers turning right and left to free himself of the auburn locks, loving the silken softness of it as it slid free. Maeve kissed him lightly on his jawline, her face nestled against the sweat damp plane of his shoulder, her tongue tasting the salty sweetness of it.

"I love you, Maeve," he said abruptly, smiling at the truth of it, tucking her head gently beneath his chin. His thigh cocked up over her hips, his shaft still snugly home inside his woman.

The comfort of her, of him, relief of him finally saying the words he'd been feeling for weeks now did not allow him to notice what Maeve was feeling at the revelation.

She was horrified, stiffening against him for a second, then forcing her muscles to loosen and gentle so as not to warn Jayne of how she was taking what he'd just said. Instead she softened herself even more, inhaled slow and deeply, murmuring sleepily, feigning sleep in his arms warm on the couch. He was fooled, grinned and tucked his love securely against him, drifting off to sleep a few seconds later. Jayne's woman was afraid.

'He's mine, why can't I keep him?', her brain kept repeating it, the pleading thought would not leave her. Pressing her chest against him briefly to check the soundness of his sleeping, she muttered aloud, "By suo you de dou shi dang, Maeve, it ain't right, that's why." She clutched the young man to her, forehead against his chest, wanting to just become a part of him somehow, make the world disappear by her own disappearance into his skin.

She knew this time would come, had known all along it had to come, but she wasn't ready for it. Not nearly ready. Tears of grief leaked from the corners of green eyes unnoticed along with the other salty wetness of their combined sweat warming, evaporating from the fire's glow against the entwined pair.

End - Part 11

I could stand to hear some feedback, Gentle Readers. Thank ya for being there for me. Love you all.

Mandarin translations:

zhu tou - pig head go-se - shit yi dian an jing - a little silence fei fei de pi yan - baboon's ass crack dang ran - of course lao tian ye - oh god, oh jesus, literally, old venerable gentleman shing yunn - fortunate she niou - god blessed sho you de dou shi dang - all that's proper