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“Something about that is just downright unsettling.” – Jayne Cobb

Zoe had certain incontrovertible ways of letting her husband know what she wanted. This was one of those ways. Wash descended the ladder into their bunk and had to blink twice to be completely sure of what he was seeing. Illuminated only by the bedside lamp, Zoe sat cross-legged on the head of the bed with the blanket up to her waist, bent over a book whose cover showed considerable wear from many readings. Her hair was loosely plaited in thick braids that fell one over each shoulder, connecting with the line of the thin straps of her baby-doll nightie. Its pale peach color charmed Wash with the way it made Zoe’s bronze skin glow so warmly. She looked up at him, smiled and waved.

Wash knew what Zoe wanted. This was one of her games, her idea from the very beginning. It was one of their most immersive games and, he had learned, the more intense the play, the more satisfying the results. It was all right that Wash did not share this particular kink of his wife’s – if anything, he had a Zoe fetish. “Whatcha reading, baby?”

“My unicorn book.” Zoe leaned over to give Wash a peck on the cheek as he sat next to her to unlace his boots. “You wanna read it with me?” she asked in a light, nearly effervescent voice.

“I sure would.” Wash swung his legs up onto the bed and Zoe snuggled against his side as he took the book and put his arm around her. She giggled as he made a dramatic presentation of clearing his throat. “Okay, where are we?”

Zoe poked at the open page, “Here, after the third spell.”

“Okay. ‘My dear, you deserve the services of a great wizard, but I'm afraid you'll have to be glad of the aid of a second-rate pickpocket.’” As Wash read on, inflecting the dialogue with different voices, his hand slid down Zoe’s bare arm. His fingers crept along the sensitive underside of one soft breast. The skillful way his fingertips stroked across her nipple made Zoe’s eyelids flutter closed and her breathing quicken. He continued to read without faltering as he pinched her swollen brown nipple through the smooth fabric. She moaned faintly. “You like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” Zoe nodded against Wash and rested her head in the cradle of his neck and shoulder. She began to squirm as he rubbed her nipple firmly in tight circles. “More?”

“Anything for my special girl.” Wash took the book in the hand draped over Zoe’s shoulder and began to caress her other breast, stroking back and forth across her nipple with his thumb. “‘The Red Bull? I've heard too many tales, to tell you the truth. I've heard that the Bull is real, that the Bull is a ghost-’” He stopped to smile at Zoe’s panting breath against his chest and the way she fidgeted. Slipping his hand inside the top of her nightie, Wash massaged each of Zoe’s breasts in turn, tormenting her nipples by pinching them briefly only to move his hand away. Wash raised his voice just enough to be heard over her hushful, plaintive moans, “’Rat soup. Again rat soup.’ ‘ At least she could use a different rat. The third night, anyway‘.”

Wash pulled his hand out, dragging his yolk-calloused palm along Zoe’s sensitized skin, and stroked down her belly. He did not need to look at the book to continue “reading” the story. They had read it to each other so many times that he knew it by rote. Wash sighed appreciatively between lines of dialogue at the heat radiating from the juncture of Zoe’s thighs. She repositioned slightly and spread her legs for Wash’s questing hand to slither into her panties. Her Venus mound was shaved immaculately clean and Wash could feel the pouty swell of her labia as he laid his hand over her flower and rubbed her. “Would you like your special touch now?”

“Yes,” Zoe said with a strain in her voice, as though she were fighting to stay still even as she rocked against Wash’s hand.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please. Oh, please, Daddy.” Zoe gasped sharply as Wash’s hand dipped down and he slid his middle finger deeply into her. The book fell forgotten onto the floor. Wash bent his finger each time he withdrew, pressing on her g-spot without fail. Zoe was so aroused that her skin tingled with it from her scalp to the soles of her feet and her dripping core eagerly accepted Wash’s index finger too.

“Show me those pretty breasts of yours.” Wash could smell the musk of Zoe’s sex and his hard cock wanted impossibly to harden even more as she pushed the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and it slid off her breasts. He had always loved her breasts, the way they were firm and pillowy-soft all at once, how her body reacted when he touched and kissed them. Wash pulled Zoe close and bent his head to one perfect breast to suck at her nipple. Reticence was a lost cause for Zoe as she groaned from the mounting sensations. Her quim was throbbing with her racing pulse as Wash’s fingers thrust into her and his tongue flicked rapidly over her nipples. She held onto him as his thumb began to stroke near her clitoris but never quite touching it.

“Please touch me there,” she pleaded, her lips against his neck. “Please make me feel so good.” Had Zoe seen the grin on Wash’s face, as evil as any the Devil had ever drawn on a man, she likely would have climaxed instantly. Wash let his thumb drag lightly over her tender nub as he continued to piston his fingers in her heat. It took only seconds for the tingle in Zoe’s skin to collect in her loins and explode outward through her veins. “Yes, Daddy! Yes!” she screamed as her limbs trembled and her body shook with her powerful orgasm. She felt like she was being tumbled by the ocean, senseless except to the pleasure that coursed through her.

Wash held Zoe close as the fierceness of her climax subsided. “Good girl,” He whispered as he stroked her hair. “That’s my good girl.” Zoe clung to him fiercely, hands fisted in his shirt. Somehow, she always managed to curl against his body in a way that made her seem so much smaller, even vulnerable.

“I see you got the tub ready.”

“Yeah, I already took my bath.” Zoe looked up with a salacious gleam in her eye. “I was wondering if maybe…I could wash you this time?”

“I think that sounds like a great idea.” He smiled down at her benevolently. “Do you want to help me with my undressing?”

Zoe eagerly slid off the bed and pulled Wash’s socks off by the toes. She scrambled back onto the bed to help Wash peel himself out of his vest and flamboyant shirt, then back down again as he stood so she could guide his canvas pants to the floor. His hands caught hers as she reached for the waistband of his shorts. “Hold on, baby girl. I’ll get these. You check the water.” Off she went as he slid down his underwear.

Wash almost giggled at the sight of the white lace-trimmed bobby socks padding across the floor to the big washbasin. Zoe had already filled it with hot water and dumped in one more kettle-full for good measure. He stepped into the basin and accepted the soapy, dripping washcloth that Zoe, on her knees like a penitent, offered him. Hardly even noticing the warm lather as he bathed himself, Wash focused on the sensuous journey of the terrycloth in Zoe’s slender fingers as it slid up the back of one leg, then the other, then up the front of each, stopping just before his groin. Wash opened his eyes when he realized she had paused.

Zoe looked up to Wash with a perfect affectation of innocent curiosity in her eyes. Timidly, she touched his hard member. “Daddy, what’s that?”

“What does it look like to you?”

“Um… a popsicle.”

Wash smiled wickedly again. “Okay, then, it’s a popsicle. You wanna show me how you eat popsicles?”

Zoe just smiled and licked her lips. Closing her eyes, she slid the length of him deep into her mouth and sucked as she withdrew. Wash shuddered and sighed, so she did it again, and again, and again, until his cock glistened and he began put one hand on her head. He smiled down at her as she tickled and teased his cock with the tip of her tongue. His fingertips ghosted over her cheekbones. “Oh, that little tongue,” he sighed, eyes closing on their own, and fought not to thrust fast and hard into her skillful, eager mouth.

It was actually a weak analogy, Zoe thought as she tenderly massaged her husband’s scrotum. It wasn't really anything at all like eating a popsicle. For one thing, popsicles were very cold, not almost hot enough to burn your mouth. They got smaller when you licked and sucked them, not bigger. They tasted sweet and fruity, not salty and musky. Then again, they also didn't scream your name and grab your hair, and altogether make you feel powerful and wanted and loved and beautiful. Popsicles just didn't have that strong an effect on her. Zoe took hold of Wash by the hips and pulled him forward, thrusting him deeply, even into her throat.

“No, wait, stop,” Wash hurriedly withdrew from her mouth.

Zoe looked up at him with a mixture of startlement and concern on her face. “Did I do it bad?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“No, sweetie.” Wash knelt down and kissed her forehead. “You were doing it too good. I don’t want it to be over yet.”

“But I wanna keep doing it,“ Zoe pouted, crossing her arms in a huff.

“Are you pouting?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Well, now you’re just lying and you know what that means.” Wash grabbed Zoe by a wrist and pulled her behind him to the bed. All the way, she played at resisting. Wash sat on the edge of the bed and, hard-on notwithstanding, bent Zoe over his lap. “Pull down your panties.”

Zoe did, shaking her head emphatically and crying, “Please, Daddy, please,” though she never uttered “no” or “stop”. The tremble in her voice was from anticipation. Wash rubbed one flat hand over and around her buttocks, once, twice, thrice, then lifted it away. Zoe held her breath, but when the hand did not fall, she hazarded a look back.

SMACK!

Zoe gasped as Wash’s broad hand connected with the café latte skin of her ample rump and left a perfect magenta print. Right on its heels came three more slaps, each warming a different section of skin. Zoe bit her lower lip and tried to hold still, while her whole being wanted to throw Wash down and ravage him, or vice versa. One more good, sharp crack reddened the last untouched area and Zoe let out a little moan.

“Here, sweetie, lay down on your tummy.” Wash helped Zoe off his lap and onto the bed, where she most obediently lay prone. On his hands and knees over her, Wash leaned down and placed one soft kiss on each of Zoe’s buttocks. “There, all better.” He kissed at the top of her cleft and she squirmed to open her legs for him. Wash stroked downwards with his tongue and taunted her rosette. Zoe let out a quaking sigh and spread her legs further. Wash smiled; “back door” play was exclusive to this game, but he could not help but think how lucky he was to have a woman who would do it at all. “Is this what you’re wanting?”

“It won’t hurt, will it?”

“No, baby, it’ll feel good.”

“Okay,” Zoe said into the pillow, digging under it to hand back a bottle of lubricant and a tiny bullet vibrator. Wash took time lubricating his handsomely thick erection, stroking himself while he drank in the sight of his wanton wife barely up on her knees, gorgeous round ass in the air, all his and willingly given.

Wash entered her slowly, pausing at the point of resistance, the tight ring of inner muscles playing the part of her maidenhead. He kissed Zoe’s shoulder as he breeched her, pushing in by the inch until his hips were pressed against her backside and reveling in the sweet noises she made. Her body was so tight around him. This wouldn’t take long, Wash knew, so he moved slowly, in long, slow strokes until Zoe began moaning and writhing under him.

Zoe’s hands were fisted in the sheets. Wash uncurled her fingers and drew her hand to the little silver device. She held it and he switched it on. Never breaking from his agonizingly deliberate pace, Wash guided Zoe’s hand beneath their bodies to her swollen and aching clitoris. Her moans became shouts as she anxiously rolled her hips back and forth between Wash’s hard cock and the toy.

“That’s right, baby girl, cum for Daddy.”

In the corridor above them, Jayne - big, butch Jayne - froze dead where he stood.

“Yes, Daddy! Yes! Oh, fuck me, Daddy!” from Zoe set Jayne’s stomach to heaving and he leaned against the wall for support as he fought to control his perfidious viscera.

Mal came from the other end of the corridor. “Jayne, you okay there?”

“Gonna go * gag * sleep in the * choke * cargo bay.”

Mal stopped to listen for the source of the hard-lined mercenary’s distress. Zoe’s cries soared through the thick bulkhead, punctuate by Wash’s impassioned grunts of climax. “Oh my stars and garters.” Mal pulled Jayne away from the wall and supported him as they retreated directly. “Ya know, for a man paid whose to maim and kill, that sure got to you easy. You just thank the seven tiny Buddhas they don’t play their games on the galley table anymore.” Mal shook his head to chase away the image of so much bare ass where he took his meals.

Fini