You see him sitting alone, in his accustomed place at the table. It is late, and most of the crew has gone to sleep, or at least the pretense of such. Zoe and Wash, for one, are likely taking advantage of the lull. You try not to think of your sister, who is being "babysat" by Kaylee. No telling what those two have been up to lately, especially since the pretty mechanic installed the soundproofing in the bunks to quiet Jayne's protests. While both River and Kaylee deserve all the happiness the `verse can give them, you're still a bit wary of their relationship. Things tend to go wrong on this ship, so ironically named Serenity.
Take today for example. It was supposed to be a smooth job, just go in, get the goods, and fly off with no-one the wiser. What Mal hadn't figured on was the other group of outlaw smugglers trying to do the exact same thing at the exact same time. It had ended up a firefight, with several injuries for you to repair. Your anger and frustration, and, you admit to yourself, fear, had found a target in the captain while you were stitching up a gunshot wound, and while your former colleagues from the hospital would have been appalled at your lack of dispassion, Mal took it in his own inimitable way. That is to say, he fought back.
The fight was short, hot, and bitter. You were both too strung out to have a knock down, drag out fight, but the words were acrid enough. Mal left with almost visible steam coming from his ears, and you were literally seeing red, with pinpricks of unshed tears beginning to cloud your vision.
It took much longer to clean the infirmary than usual. Not so much the actual work, but the pauses for reflection, on how you could have handled the argument differently, or better, or even just those retorts that never occurred to you until much later. And then, finally, the work was done, and you had to face the reality of what to do about Mal. And, really, there was only one answer.
After removing your shoes, you climbed the stairs quietly, cold seeping into your feet, and, now, you stare at his back, recognizing the set of the shoulders, the stiff spine. Mal Reynolds is nothing if not stubborn. Possibly one of the reasons you love him, although you doubt that, more likely one of the things that makes you want to smack him.
"I know you're there. Can`t sneak up on me on my own gorram boat."
"I'm not sneaking," you retort. "I was gathering my thoughts."
"No shoes." It's almost a question, but not quite. He looks at you, taut around the eyes.
"My feet hurt." Shit, even his hair looks tense. Your fingers tingle, and you resist the urge to run your fingers through it. "Long days in surgery do that to me."
"Long days in surgery make you naonu, doc," and your heart drops into your stomach when he doesn't use your real name.
"I'm sorry." You realize you're actually staring at your feet, and probably look like a schoolkid. A flash of irritation, and you're looking Mal in the eyes again. "I overreacted. The gun fight wasn't your fault, neither was the whole fucked up deal."
"Apology accepted." His blue eyes are still guarded, his voice wary, and you're sure that it's just an automatic response. How the hell are you going to fix this one, Doctor Tam? you think sourly.
You stroll to the counter, figuring you could grab something to distract yourself with. You realize in an instant that you don't want to be distracted, you want to stay focused. At some point, this affair stopped being a game. There are deeper emotions involved. You step next to his chair, and he looks up with hurt and anger in his eyes. Your heart aches.
"Mal," and your voice cracks. "I don't want to lose you."
Grabbing his hand, you hold it tightly. He's startled when you pull him from his chair, but doesn't resist. As you pull his hand to your mouth, he closes his eyes, shakes his head slightly, "Simon ... "
"Please, Mal, I'm so fucking sorry," and you are, you're sorrier than you've been in ages. "It's killing me that we fought." Your lips brush his knuckles. "That we were so cruel to each other." You're putting as much feeling into your voice, into your eyes, as you can muster, praying that he can tell how much it hurts, how much you need forgiveness from him. You press his hand to your lips, not moving, just the touch is enough. Plead, cry, beg. You're willing to do anything to fix this, because you love this man.
The realization brings you up short. This is so much more than you've felt for anyone ever before. Mal notices when you jerk. "Simon, what is it?" and it's concern in his voice, even as he pulls his hand back, his thumb brushing your lower lip.
"I love you," you whisper. The tears are back. "Mal,..."
"Simon," his eyes are luminous. "I love you, too, but, ..." he pauses, searching for the right word, and you resist the urge to strangle him over that but. He starts again, "....I don't want to hurt you."
"Why? Did you have something planned, Mal?" Your anger peeks through the statement. He's speechless, so you continue, "If there's one thing I've learned out here, there's nothing we can do if either one of us dies, or is hurt, or ... whatever, but I don't intend to go through my life waiting for that to happen. Nothing is certain, I want to enjoy life as much as I can, while I can. I want to enjoy us as much as we can, while we can. I love you." The words are flowing now, climbing over each other trying to escape your thoughts. "It won't keep me from saying stupid things, or messing up, or you from being a stubborn hundan, but it's all we have. I want it to be enough." With that, the words dry up, and you find yourself staring at Mal's face, mouth slightly open, lips dry.
The cold air of ship's night is still for a moment longer. Gently, he brings his hand to your face, thumb gently brushing away a few errant tears. Blue eyes capture yours, reading your thoughts, laying your soul bare. You try to put the truth of your words in your gaze, praying he can read it.
Finally, he wavers, and capitulates, and you fall into each other's arms, relieved. You both stand there, drinking in each other's scents, feeling nothing but each other's tension flow down and away. After a few timeless moments, you decide it's time for more, and you begin to stroke gently down his back. Mal moans, almost a sob, and all you're feeling is the need to comfort him, to keep him close forever.
Your hands are now on your lover's hips, thumbs gently tracing the crease between torso and leg, pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss is light, and you can feel the fluttery sigh that resonates through both of your bodies. He kisses back, hesitantly, then with more confidence, snaking his tongue along the edges of your lips. The sensations cause you to moan, and you release one hand to grab at his head, while your left hand pulls, tightening your hold on his hip, to grind his groin against yours. You can feel his hardness.
Drawing all his breath into you, you finally break the kiss. Both of you are panting. His eyes are wide open, pupils dilated. His skin is flushed that particular shade that turns you on so much.
"Mal, I love you," and your voice is husky, warm with lust, "I want you to fuck me." It seems impossible, but his eyes widen even more, and he grabs your lips in a short, heated kiss, as he starts to guide you towards the foredeck.
You miss your footing on the steps, and grab onto to the doorway for balance. Mal is on you in a moment, pulling your hair, locking his lips to yours, tongue invading every crevice it can find. One of his hands is wandering along the waist band of your pants, looking for the opening. You are clawing at his shirt, only occasionally finding buttons, as you force yourself to your feet. He curses, grabbing your sweater and pulling it over your head in one smooth motion.
Your arms are trapped briefly, and while you struggle to drop the garment to the floor, he attacks your neck with his mouth. You've completely lost control of the situation, and there's a part of your mind that's freaking out. It's easy enough to ignore that nagging voice, though, because your primal instincts are coming to the fore.
Mal pauses in shock at the growl coming from your throat. "Never heard you make that sound before." he mutters. You take advantage of the lull to extricate yourself from your sweater, and step carefully up out of the galley. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you walk backwards towards the entrance of Mal's bunk, and climb down.
He follows you down the ladder. Once he's on the decking, he grabs and pushes you against the wall by the comm. Holding you there with his body alone, Mal starts another kiss. This one is slower, but even more intense, as he slides his suspenders off his shoulder, and divests himself of his shirt. You groan at the feeling of skin on skin, lips opening yours, tongue fucking your mouth, hard. You're grinding against him, you need more of him than you could have imagined.
He's got your pants undone now, one hand tugging them down, the other gently pulling your head back. You gasp as he finds your cock, dragging hot fingers roughly up and down the shaft. His mouth is attacking your throat, sharp bites soothed instantly by a warm tongue. You growl again, and feel his chuckle against your skin. "Who would have guessed," he says quietly, pulling you both from the wall "the oh-so-reserved Doctor Tam."
You're spun around, gently but firmly, and Mal finishes undressing you. He then pulls your body to his again, one hand on your hip, the other tracing lines along your chest. He groans as he leans in for another kiss. The feeling of being lost comes back in full force, and this time, you decide to enjoy the ride.
Finally, you both make it to the bed. As he pushes you back, so you fall to a sitting position, his eyes trap you against the mattress as he toes off his boots and removes his pants. While you've seen that feral look often, it still terrifies you, especially when it's focused on you, and your breath hitches in your throat. Once undressed, Mal leans in, and you feel the need to retreat, but there's nowhere to go. Your head hits the mattress, and your lips are captured in another powerful kiss.
Mal has a streak of cruelty, but it's seldom come into play in the bedroom. Tonight, he's pulling out the stops. He's teasing you, almost, but never quite, touching your cock, biting, pinching, licking, bruising, and doing it all over again. And you want him to, want this so bad, you've never felt this aroused before.
You're writhing in ecstasy, as Mal licks his way across your chest, teasing each nipple with his tongue, over and over again, until you can't stand it. "Oh, God, Mal, please!" you beg.
"Please, what?" He pulls his face away, a dark smile on his face, even as his hips stay connected to yours. He tries out a few experimental thrusts, cock to cock, and you bite your tongue on a strangled yelp. He bends back in, using his teeth again, and goes back to work on your chest. Each love bite is excruciating, and you only want more. He's working his way down to your stomach, and you arch into his mouth when his tongue dips into your navel, the head of your cock brushing against his jaw. You shudder, not knowing what's coming next, getting harder and harder still, ready to beg for release.
You almost cry as he pulls away, sliding his body along yours, until your heads are next to each other again. Mal licks your ear, almost reverently. "Not `til I'm inside you," he whispers, the slight breeze from the words making goosebumps travel your flesh. He reaches above your head, and you catch a glimpse of a small tube. One arm snakes underneath your body, flips you over, and pulls your back against his chest, and holds tight. You feel his cock in your cleft, and gasp at the touch of the cold lube.
As he uses his fingers to open you up, you twist your head for another kiss. He doesn't let you capture his mouth quite yet, though. His tongue traces your ear, your jaw, even your eyelid, before finding its way to the edges of your lips. You try to pull more from him, groaning and pleading wordlessly, when suddenly, his fingers find your prostate, and he's capturing your scream with his mouth, tongue fucking your mouth in the same rhythm as his fingers in your ass.
You're so lost in sensation, you barely notice his fingers leaving your ass, and wrapping around your cock, but you do feel his cock sliding in, and the other hand pinching your abused nipple. Mal adjusts your bodies in order to get better leverage, and starts pounding into you. The kiss falls to pieces as he starts muttering, "Fuck, yeah, Simon, that's my boy," and you lose all rational thought. His hand is pumping you in time with his thrusts, which hit your prostate with a steady regularity that makes you moan and writhe under him.
It doesn't take you long to come. This time, you finally do scream, the pleasure is so intense. Mal continues thrusting and pumping for only a second longer, and he comes with a quiet curse, pressed into you as far as he can get. You bonelessly bat his hand away from your sensitized flesh, even as his head falls to your shoulder.
You stroke his soft hair. You don't want to move, and just think of how perfect it would be if you both could stay like this forever. Then sense kicks back in, and you snort, thinking of how much you both would start stinking in a day or two.
"Whazsofunny?" Mal's even more incoherent than you are. You take that as a good sign. He shifts his head to nuzzle the back of your neck.
"Nothing," you smile. The air in the cabin has become warm, draining. It`s pulling you into a deep lethargy. You let it. "You know, I'm going to have to get my sweater at some point," you mumble, half asleep.
"Cao," he says to your hair. "Lesomeonelsedealwithat," and pulls you in tighter.