home * fandoms * firefly * bottom WARNING: If you haven't read the warning on the index page, go back and read it. If you don't, and you don't like what you find here, don't come crying to me. Title: Life in Itself Author: Eleanor K. Fandom: Firefly Pairing: Mal/Simon Rating: NC-17 Posted: 3 April 2003 Spoilers: War Stories, minor for Shindig Email: emungere@gmail.com The series: Fuzzy, Tokens, Intersections, The Widening Gyre, The Empty Sky, No Quarter, Off the Map, Seven Seeds, Life in Itself. Disclaimer: Non nobis, Joss, non nobis; sed nomini tuo da gloriam. Title stolen from "Spring" by Edna St. Vincent Millay. Warnings: Sex 'n' angst. Which, as Dave Barry would say, would be a great name for a rock band. Notes: Thanks to Cab for her usual spiffy beta job. ..___.. Mal wakes up more slowly than usual. There is nothing waiting to yank him out of bed and into the day, and he has every reason to want to stay right where he is. He slipped down during the night, and he is lying with his face on Simon's chest. Simon's arms hold him loosely. Breath ruffles his hair. He closes his eyes. The second time Mal wakes, Simon is lying on his side, looking down at him. Simon isn't leaving. Sleep-warmed and still drowsy, Mal is more than happy to hold that thought in his mind to the exclusion of everything else. He watches as Simon bends down to kiss him, keeping his eyes open until the last second and then sinking into a soft, hot mouth. There is a gentle knock on the door. "Captain? You in there?" Zoe's voice. Doesn't that just figure. He extracts himself from Simon's arms and gets his pants on. He slides the door open a crack. "What?" Zoe doesn't even blink. "Badger's here. I got the info you wanted on Viktor." Mal sighs. "Give me a minute. I'll meet you in the kitchen." He turns away, slides the door shut, eyes searching for his shirt. Simon yawns and stretches. "What time is it?" "Don't know. Late, I'd guess." He is bending over to pick up his shirt when hands catch his hips, pulling him back. When he straightens up, Simon turns him around, hands spread across his sides. After a moment of thoughtful silence, Simon pulls his suspenders up onto his shoulders. "Have I told you," Simon says, hands brushing down Mal's bare chest, "that you look really good in these?" "In suspenders?" Mal asks, bemused. "Mm-hm." He bends, licking across one nipple and making Mal sway toward him. "And right now you look...just..." "What?" Simon smiles at him, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Incredibly sexy comes to mind. Sleepy and half-naked is a good look on you." A tug on his suspenders, and Mal is leaning forward automatically, hands sliding over the bare curve of Simon's ass. He lets his eyes close, breathing in the scent of Simon's hair as Simon licks delicately at his neck. Then Simon is stepping back, laughter in his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be talking to Badger right about now?" "That was low. You're an evil, evil man, Simon Tam." "You can come and find me when you're done." "You can pretty much count on that." He can feel Simon's eyes on him as he washes up and dresses, making it hard to concentrate, and Simon is there again, right beside him as he zips his boots and stands up. One last kiss and no words at all, and he is walking fast around the corner and up the stairs, trying to leave last night and this morning behind him. Zoe and Jayne are waiting for him in the kitchen. The preacher is leaning against the counter, sipping tea. "Where's Badger?" "Cargo bay," Jayne says. "Talking to Kaylee and Wash. He ain't armed, and I made his boys wait outside." Mal nods. "Fine." Turns to Zoe. "What have you got?" "Viktor Vogel, parents deceased, older brother also deceased. Younger sister, fifteen. Her name is Margaret." Mal waits for a second. Zoe looks at him expectantly. "Okay. And why do I care about Margaret?" She smiles. "Because Margaret has been attending a convent school on Eos for the last five years." "Really." He sits down. His brain is slow, despite all that sleep. Caffeine is what he needs. "I hear there's been some trouble on Eos." He wonders how far he'd get if he tried to steal Zoe's coffee. Probably not very far. "Riots and such," Zoe tells him. "In particular, in the capital city." "Which just happens to be where Viktor's sister goes to school?" "You got it." Jayne, foolishly, is looking the other way, and Mal takes the opportunity to slide his mug over. "Hey!" It's hard to remember sometimes that Jayne really isn't as slow as he looks. A hand closes over Mal's wrist before he can complete Operation Coffee Theft. "That's mine," Jayne says. "I need it more than you do." Jayne squints at him, then smirks and lets go of his wrist. "Go ahead. Since you had such a *long*, *hard* night..." Mal hunches over the coffee, trying to ignore the sounds of stifled snickers. Or in Jayne's case, not so stifled. He's wondering if he should be dealing with Badger and Viktor at all today if he was stupid enough to set himself up for that one. He sighs and lets it go. "All right. So Viktor thinks Eos might not be the healthiest place for his sister right about now." Which more or less explains the emphasis put on Mal being a 'decent man' last night. "Fifty thousand's an awful lot for one girl, and I don't see any reason he couldn't go get her himself." "If he's really taking over from Niska," Jayne says, "could be he just don't have time." "Could be he doesn't want to attract that kind of attention to her, either," Zoe adds. Mal nods as if he knew this all along. He would have if he'd thought about it last night instead of...well, there wasn't really any choice there. "Still," he says. "Fifty thousand. I'm thinking maybe it's not just the girl he wants us to get. Anything else interesting on Eos?" Zoe shakes her head. "Not that I could find. There's a museum or two with some stuff that might be worth stealing, but..." "But that ain't exactly our kind of job." She shrugs. "After Ariel, maybe he thinks we're ready to move up to the big time." "Great." He sips at the coffee, and it scalds his tongue. "So it's still a mystery job." "Yeah, but, Mal--fifty fucking thousand! Come on." "I think I might've pointed out before that you can't get paid if you're dead, Jayne. Did it not sink in the first time?" "I guess it's down to whether you trust him or not." Everyone around the table looks over at Book's comment. "I guess so, Shepherd. And I don't." More coffee. He's starting to feel awake now, thoughts moving at something approaching normal speed. "And don't start sulking, Jayne. I ain't saying no yet. Gonna go talk to him." "You think Badger'll just lead you to him?" "No, I do not. Anyone got a piece of paper? If Badger wants to play messenger boy, I'll let him." *** Mal looks at Viktor. They are seated at the same table they faced each other across last night. The only difference is that Zoe and Jayne are now standing behind Mal's chair, looming like a pair of heavily armed gargoyles, and two of Viktor's men are doing the same behind him. It's a nice civilized little scene compared to some meetings Mal's had with prospective employers. Viktor slides the note Mal sent him across the table. There are only two words written on it: Margaret Vogel. "You're smarter than I thought you were, Captain." "Your sister didn't take much finding. If you were trying to hide her, you might have done a better job." Viktor shrugs fractionally. "There were reasons for placing her there." He slides a photo across the table until it rests on top of the note. "This is her. It was taken three months ago." Pretty girl. Dark skin, wildly curly hair, olive green eyes, and an expression just as blank as Viktor's is right now. "Okay." He hands the photo off to Zoe. "So we pick her up, bring her to you, get our money, and that's it?" Even as he says it, he doesn't believe for a second that things will be that simple. "Not quite. You'll take her to Newstar. There's a good boarding school there." Also very little Alliance presence and a stable government, if he recalls correctly. Makes sense. Viktor passes him a card with the address of the school on it as a voice behind Mal says, "You don't even want to see her?" It's Jayne, once again saying out loud what everyone else had sense enough to keep quiet about. Mal turns and gives him a shut-the-hell-up look, but Jayne isn't paying attention. "She's the only family you got, and you're just gonna ship her off to some fancy rich kid school?" "Jayne." Jayne looks at him, pissed off and defiant, and rather than smack him down in front of Viktor, Mal mouths the words, 'fifty fucking thousand' at him. Jayne grunts and shuts up. Mal turns back to Viktor, who is looking even more blank than previously. "So we take her to Newstar and collect the cash." "Again, not quite." "Fifty thousand did seem like overkill for passenger transport." Viktor smiles so briefly that it looks more like a facial twitch. "Have you seen the latest from Eos? The capital is a free fire zone. You may have more problems on that score than you anticipate. But you're right. There is something else." "Want to tell me what that might be? I got a lot of talents, but mind reading ain't one of them." "Are you committed to the job?" "Got no problem with getting the girl out. Won't know about the rest until you tell me." "And I can't tell you unless you'll do it." "Well, that puts us at something of an impasse, don't it?" Viktor folds his hands on the table. His eyes move quickly from Zoe to Jayne and back to Mal. "It's simple enough. Merchandise transport. Nothing you haven't done before. You'll pick up the cargo on Eos and bring it to the skyplex after you drop her off at Newstar." "What kind of cargo?" "I don't remember you being quite so inquisitive, Captain." "And look where it got me." "Fair point. All right. I can tell you what it's not--not slaves, not drugs, not anything you'd find...morally objectionable." 'Morally objectionable' makes Mal feel like a damn preacher or something, but he lets it pass. "And if I take the job, you'll tell me what I'm transporting?" "I won't have much of a choice. You'll have to know." Mal hates these moments. Any decision he makes now will be based on a guess and a character assessment of a man he finds nearly impossible to read. The only solid fact at his disposal is his own current state of extreme poverty. He looks down at the table and picks at an incipient hole in the thigh of his pants. Thinking, have to mend that tonight before it gets worse. Thinking, fifty thousand. Thinking, this could get us all killed. Thinking, what is it about this guy that's creeping me out so bad? Thinking, finally, if we don't take this job it'll be a miracle if we get another one before the fuel runs out--and that'll be it. Grounded. Miracles don't come along everyday. Mal figures he's already had his share just recently. "Ten percent up front." Viktor gestures to one of his men, who hands him a bag. It clinks as it hits the table. "Ten percent in platinum." Viktor stands and holds out a hand. "Do we have a deal, Captain?" They shake. Viktor's hand is hard and dry, and he holds Mal's gaze a second longer than most people would. Mal steps back and has to resist a sudden impulse to wipe his hand on his pants. Maybe Viktor caught that because his mouth twitches in another brief smile. He hands Mal a sheet of digipaper. "All the details you'll need are in here, including the cargo in question. Your DNA signature will unlock it. Contact Badger if you need to find me." "Do we really have to bring Badger into this?" Mal could swear Viktor is trying not to laugh as he answers. "He's already in it." "Yeah, and why is that anyway?" "He's the biggest player in the city. It would have been bad manners to ignore his position here." "You couldn't have just sent him a thank-you card or something?" "Goodbye, Captain." Mal turns to go. He gets as far as the door. "Oh, and Captain?" Mal looks back over his shoulder. "I just got word before our meeting--there are two Alliance troop transport ships on the way to Eos. You might want to arrange things so you arrive before they do." Mal sighs inwardly. "Right." Outside, he stops to take a breath and let things come together in his head, which they more or less fail to do. He closes his eyes for a second and opens them to find Jayne and Zoe watching him. "All right, you two. What's the problem?" "I heard nothing about any Alliance troops en route to Eos, Captain. There would've been something on the Cortex." "Hun dan's jerking us around," Jayne growls. "Maybe," Mal says. "Or maybe he knows something we don't. Either way, decision's made." He opens the bag and hands them each a pile of platinum. "You know what we need. Get going. We lift off in two hours." Zoe nods sharply and goes off in her discreet version of a huff. Jayne slopes off in the opposite direction, glancing back over his shoulder and looking more worried than anything else. Mal starts off, walking fast and thinking faster. He hates it when Jayne and Zoe are both worried. It usually means he's just done something monumentally stupid. Well, no time to think about it now. He has a list of stores they need and a list of engine parts from Kaylee, color-coded for price, some items with little hearts or stars added for emphasis. She seemed a little cool when she gave it to him, presumably because she wanted to go herself, but he knew somehow they'd end up pressed for time, and it's not much use trying to get Kaylee to hurry through her shopping. He pulls it out of his pocket and unfolds it. The guy at the store will know what this stuff is. He hopes. *** Maybe Jayne was right, and Viktor is jerking them around. Maybe this is the job that will turn out to be too much for them. Maybe something will go horribly wrong--it usually does--or the contact won't show up, or the girl will be pregnant, or...whatever. Maybe. Probably. Right now Mal doesn't care. He leans on the railing of the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay and can't help smiling. Wash is doing his best to help Zoe stow the supplies she brought back, but as Mal watches, Wash picks up the crate that Zoe just set down next to the storage locker where it belongs and carries it over to her. It's the fourth or fifth time he's done this, and Zoe starts bawling him out. Mal shakes his head and wonders how he could have ever doubted she loved him. Wash is the only one Zoe ever yells at. Kaylee is bouncing around her newly delivered engine parts and pulling on Jayne's arm to get him to help her carry them up to the engine room. Jayne unloads the mule, doing his best to ignore Kaylee. Simon, firm as ever in his belief that Jayne can't handle the medical supplies without breaking them, hovers nearby, occasionally taking an elbow to the ribs as Jayne tells him to wait two ruttin' minutes while he gets things sorted out. "Happy?" River is standing beside him. Mal wonders if it's a bad sign that it doesn't startle him when she creeps up him any more. "Pretty much. You?" She ducks under his arm, standing between him and the railing. "Climb the tree. See what you see." She cranes her head to look in his eyes. "Your people." "Yup. My people." "Can't see me," she mutters. "I can't be seen." "I can see you just fine." She turns around, a concentrated frown on her face, and puts a hand over his eyes. "Can't now." "Can so." "Cannot!" She sounds outraged at his illogic. "Can so." "Can't!" She takes her hand away. "You can't see with your eyes closed, Captain." "Sure I can. Maybe not as good as you, but I can see." "Far enough?" She looks concerned now, lifting herself to sit on the railing so her eyes are level with his. "Can you see the heel, the part left dry? Can you see the end?" She whips her head around, looking out over the cargo bay and standing up on the railing at the same time, her balance wavering. Mal catches her around the waist and lifts her down. "Watch yourself, girl. This is no place to be playing around." "Can you?" she insists. Mal sighs. "Nobody can know how things are going to come out. You don't know the end until you get there." She nods, pushing the hair back from her face and looking calmer. "Sometimes not even then." She turns back to the scene below them, and Mal can feel the search light of her attention follow first one group and then another. After a minute, her body relaxes, and she leans back against him. His hand rests lightly on her shoulder, barely a touch. She feels fragile and heated as a bird. He can feel her heartbeat against his chest, through her back. It slows gradually to something approaching normal, and he plays the conversation over in his mind. He's having that just-not-smart-enough feeling again. *** It's night by the ship's clock, and they are well on their way to Eos. Mal is on his way to Simon's room when a wrench exiting the engine room at high speed nearly stops him for good. "Kaylee?" Her head pops around the door, eyes wide. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry! Didn't hear you out there, Captain." "You might never have heard from me again if that thing had hit my head." "Yeah. Um. Sorry." She blinks at him and looks away. "I'd better get back to work." She darts out to grab the wrench and then disappears inside. She brushed him off earlier, too, when he offered to help carry her new stuff up to the engine room. He didn't think anything of it at the time, but this just isn't like her. He follows. "Kaylee?" "Yeah, Captain?" She sounds almost normal, her voice muffled slightly because she's already underneath her engine. "Everything okay?" "Sure. Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?" He's on the verge of accepting her reassurance when he remembers why everything might not be so fine. He doesn't think she's spoken a word more to him than she absolutely had to since she wished him and Simon well last night. It's not as if she's been cold, or anything much out of the ordinary. But then it's Kaylee, and she wouldn't be. Even if she really is okay with it, he owes her...something. An explanation at the very least. He opens his mouth and closes it again. The words just aren't there. But he has to say something. It's only going to get harder the longer he waits. "Look," he starts. "About Simon..." "I think he's doing better now, don't you? I mean, not so worried about River, and settling in finally. Learning to shoot and all. You think maybe I should do that? He said it hurt his wrists, but I think he's just not so strong, you know? Not that--" "Kaylee." She stops, and he hears a quiet sniffle from under the engine. Hell. *Fuck*. "It was just a crush, Captain. Just a silly crush. Don't you worry about me." She's lying. It's in her voice, in the way her heel digs into the floor as she twists herself farther under the engine. He could call her on it, but he won't. Of all the people in the 'verse she doesn't want to talk to about this, he's most likely right at the top of the list. He squats down to lay a hand on her ankle. She pulls her foot away. "I'm sorry, mei mei. I tried to-- Hell, once he figured out that you--" He sighs. "Thought it'd take him all of ten seconds to forget about me." He stands, and he's almost to the door when a wild jangle and crash of metal behind him makes him turn just in time to get an armful of greasy mechanic, who squeezes him until his ribs creak. Her voice is muffled against his chest. "I was trying so hard to be, you know, nice about it, and really I *am* happy for you, but-- It's just--" She breaks off with another sniffle, and all he can do is hold her and wish he knew what to say. "I'm sorry," she whispers. He swallows hard and kisses the top of her head. "You got nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. Nothing at all." "You weren't supposed to know." He can think of nothing to say to that, either. He can only stand there and feel his gut twist into knots while Book's voice in his head tells him he's for sure going to some kind of special hell for hurting her like this. He rests his chin on the top of her head. "You know I didn't do it on purpose, right?" "I know. You wouldn't do that. You're a good man, Captain. You *are*." He says nothing, just squeezes her tighter for a second. He'd rather she kept on believing it. There are days when he thinks it's the only thing keeping him human. There are any number of things he's stopped himself from doing because Kaylee thinks he's a good man. She backs off, wiping her eyes, and they look at each other. "You okay?" She nods. "I think I'm gonna go talk to Inara for a while." He watches her go and leans against the wall, needing the support. He stares at the engine in front of him without really seeing it. After a moment, he rights the toolbox she knocked over and puts her tools back inside. Then he heads toward the bridge. *** The bridge is empty and dark. He sits down without turning on the lights and watches the stars. The smallest, coldest point of light he sees could swallow his ship whole and leave not even a handful of ash behind. Even the Alliance's new prototype ships could sail through space a thousand years and not reach some of those stars. The first company commander Mal had in the war used to curse the stars on cloudless nights. He said they only reminded you how small you were and made you wonder why you bothered--with the war, with life, with anything. Mal sat up and listened to him some nights, until the man drank himself stupid on whiskey and passed out. Mal never understood it. He likes the stars, always has. They're always there, always the same. No matter what life is throwing at him, the stars never change. Why he finds that a comfort where Captain Carse found it a trial, he couldn't say, but it is a comfort nonetheless. As much as anything can be. He wouldn't have hurt her for anything. This isn't something he can fix with a new dress. This isn't something he can fix. Behind him he hears the soft rasp of leather soles on metal. "Mal? Are you all right?" He stays quiet as Simon comes to stand beside him. He doesn't want to talk. There's nothing to talk about. He'd just as soon Simon fucked off and left him alone--that was what he came up here for anyway, which ought to be obvious to anyone with half a brain. A man doesn't hole up in the dark if he's looking for civilized conversation. He opens his mouth to tell Simon all that and probably some more besides, but it doesn't quite work out like that. He looks up and meets Simon's eyes, and suddenly the last thing he wants is for Simon to leave. "C'mere." The corner of Simon's mouth turns up. "I am here." Mal catches Simon around the waist and pulls. Simon grabs the back of the chair as he stumbles, but it's not enough. He lands in Mal's lap. "Now you're here." Simon collects his dignity and gives Mal a measured look. "You know this is absurd, right? I am not sitting in your lap." "Better check your facts there, Doc." "There's another perfectly good chair right over there." "Too far away." Simon is quiet a moment. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me." "Nothing I want to talk about, then." There is a longer pause this time, but at the end of it Simon sighs and settles an arm around Mal's neck. "All right. Let me know when you can't feel your legs any more." Mal lets out a long breath and rests his head on Simon's shoulder. He closes his eyes. Simon's scent surrounds him--clean and sharp, aftershave, maybe the shampoo he uses. He feels Simon's hand at the nape of his neck, thumb stroking against the growth pattern of his hair. Mal thinks of Kaylee's tears and pained smile. It should be her in Simon's arms. Should be, but it's not. He's sorry, but not as sorry as he should be. He can't give this up. Won't. "I was expecting to see more of you today," Simon says quietly. "Busy." "I know. I hear we took the job." "We did." "You know...I came up here to yell at you." "Yeah? What for?" "Ignoring me. And yes, I am aware how much that makes me sound like a teenage girl." "Yell away." "I don't feel like it any more." "Good." He angles his head until he can press his face against Simon's throat, kiss the soft skin there. One kiss isn't enough. He opens his mouth, licking, sealing his lips against Simon's throat and sucking gently. He hears Simon gasp. This isn't enough, either. He's getting the feeling it never will be. "I want to take you to bed, Simon. Now. Any objections?" "N-no. None." "Good." He stands up, taking Simon with him and loving the sudden squeak and clutch at his neck as all Simon's dignity flies out the window. "Mal!" "Think I should carry you over the threshold?" "I think you should put me down before you injure yourself." Mal sets him down, nearly laughing, despite everything. "You are just no fun at all, you know that?" "Tell me that again in the morning. I should check on River first. Make sure she's settled down." "You do that. I'll be in my bunk." *** Mal sets his boots at the foot of his bed, out of the way. Then his suspenders get pulled down to dangle from his waist. Shirt untucked. Socks peeled off. He can't stop moving, can't stop doing. First three buttons undone. Suspenders thrown to the floor. He wishes Simon would hurry up. His face is hot, and when he looks in the mirror, he's caught by his reflection. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes. Fevered. Needful. He stares. A noise behind him. He turns to stare now at Simon, who is reaching up to lock the door. Simon looks at him, licks his lips. Not seductive. Nervous. That's all it takes. Mal is on him faster than thought. Hands under the bulk of his sweater, shoving it off onto the floor, thumb bumping over ribs, fingers tracing clearly defined muscle. Simon's hands start to work on his shirt buttons, but he pushes them away, pulls Simon down by the shoulders until they are both kneeling. Pushes him back and back, cupping his head in one hand and lowering him to the floor. Mal sees the quick rhythm of his breathing, feels the flash of his pulse beneath his skin. Head bent, Mal tastes the soft skin of his stomach, licking down from the bottom of his ribcage. Down further to suck at his navel and hear Simon start to breath harder. Down further until he has to pause to unzip Simon's pants, then licking across his hipbone. Tasting salt, faint spice, breathing in the scent of arousal with every breath. Hands pull on his hair. "Mal..." Simon's voice is low and shaking. "Mal, wait... I can't--" "Don't want to wait." He closes his teeth over the sharp angle of a jutting hip, holds and sucks. "Don't make me wait. Let me have you." He looks up at Simon's face, sees the wide eyes, the slight nod. Simon's hand rests in his hair as he bends back down. Simon's pants are in the way again, and Mal shoves them down. The boxers have to follow, and then he has inches of fresh skin to play with. The tops of Simon's thighs, the crease where they join his torso, a mass of wiry curls. Everything else is still hidden. He runs his tongue lightly down that sensitive crease, and the hand in his hair twitches. Licks around the curls, ruffling them with his breath. He sits up to yank the pants down around Simon's knees and carefully ease off the boxers. Simon whimpers as he bends down again. Mal pauses, face millimeters from Simon's cock, breathing over it and moving on. He kisses the inside of Simon's thigh. Kisses again. Nibbles. The hand in his hair is clenched. Simon is gasping his name over and over, fighting and failing to spread his legs, caught by the tangle of his pants. Mal can taste his pulse as he licks once up the underside of Simon's straining cock. He was going to go on to the other thigh after that, but Simon is begging now, voice thick. Desperate, needing him. Mal drags his lips up the length and mouths lightly at the head. He licks once more and opens wide to take it in. Just the head, sucking lightly, circling with his tongue. Still teasing. Waiting for something. He only realizes what he's waiting for when it happens. Simon's control cracks, and he thrusts up hard. Mal nearly chokes, but finds he's smiling around the cock stretching his mouth, opens wider. His hands pull Simon's hips up toward him. Another short thrust. He swallows as it hits the back of his throat, sucking, urging Simon on. He feels an urgent tug on his hair, trying to get him to stop, to let Simon get himself back under control. Not going to happen. He slips a finger in his mouth alongside Simon's cock, wetting it, reaching down and rubbing it over Simon's opening. He pushes the tip in. A low wail comes from above him, and his mouth is taken in thrust after thrust, each more wild than the last as he pushes his finger farther in. Finds what he's looking for at last. Simon arches up, back off the floor, pulsing down his throat. Simon lies still afterward, breath so harsh it almost sounds as if he's crying. Mal lays his head on Simon's stomach. He strokes himself slowly through his pants, hard and aching with it, but unwilling to move. He feels a tug at his shoulder and turns, crawling up Simon's body until they are face to face. "Hey, there. You okay?" Simon blinks at him. "I think you melted my entire skeletal structure. Does that count as okay?" Mal chuckles. "That'll do for a start." "Mm. A request for next time--let me make it to the bed so I can collapse and be boneless in comfort." "I'll see what I can do. No promises, mind." "What about you?" Simon props himself up on one elbow. "Did you, um...?" Mal snorts. "No. I didn't *um*." "Sorry about that." "Don't be sorry." "It's just, I don't usually get so wrapped up in--" Mal puts a hand over his mouth. "So make it up to me." Simon pulls his hand away and grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling until Mal is close enough to kiss. Delicate slide of tongue across his lips. He opens his mouth, but Simon pulls back. "Bed. Remember?" Mal takes Simon's hand, guides it down between his legs. "Not really feeling like waiting here. Floor's been good to us so far." Simon's nails scratch lightly over the fabric of Mal's pants, down his thigh, along the inseam. Back up to cup his erection, rubbing. "Simon..." Simon takes his hand away. "Bed. I insist." Mal stretches out on his back and groans. "No fun at all." Simon kicks off his shoes and pulls off his pants. He sits on the bed, looking down at Mal. He smiles and settles his foot between Mal's legs. Mal pushes up against too-light pressure. "Looks like you've got me. What are you gonna do with me?" "Take your shirt off." Mal starts to argue, but Simon's foot presses in, kneading. Mal closes his eyes. There is a tremor in his hands as he starts to work on his buttons. Not much, but enough to make his fingers slip now and then. He wonders if Simon knows how close he is. Much more of this, and he's going to come in his pants. "Mal?" "Huh?" He wonders how he got so breathless so fast. Had it all under control a few minutes ago. "Shirt. Don't get distracted now." "Sure. Right." The buttons are undone, but the cuffs are still fastened, as he finds out when tries to pull his arms free. He swears, hearing Simon's soft laughter, and pulls until the buttons pop. He wads the shirt up and tosses it across the room. He opens his eyes to find Simon looking at him. "Shirt's gone," Mal says. "Indeed. Now what?" "Frankly, I don't much care, long as it happens pretty quick." "Is that so? I suppose I'll have to think of something." "Something *quick*," Mal mutters, mostly to himself. Simon's foot moves steadily, rubbing up and down, a little firmer now. Mal's eyes slide shut again. He wonders how it would be to give in to this. Give up pride and pretense, moan and beg for it. He doesn't do that. Not for anyone. But he's never wanted anyone like he wants Simon. It's all he can do right now to keep from squirming under Simon's teasing, keep from grabbing his foot and grinding against it. He opens his mouth, gulping in air. "Simon...come on. Will you just..." "Anything you want." The amusement is clear in Simon's voice, and Mal gets a mental snapshot of himself as he must look. Newsflash, Reynolds: Pride? Long gone. "Get down here and get me off," he grates. Simon laughs quietly as he slides off the bed to kneel beside Mal. His hand trails lightly down Mal's thigh. Mal opens his eyes and grabs Simon's wrist, but can't say a word. Simon kisses his hand and unzips his pants. Frees his cock with a delicate touch that still manages to make Mal gasp. Simon stretches out beside him and lays a hand on Mal's cheek, bringing their mouths together. All heat and yielding softness, Simon's lips move against his, tongue pushing inside, slick against the roof of his mouth, teasing. Fucking his mouth as Simon's hand starts to move on his cock. He holds Simon close against him, lost in deep, wet kisses that merge one into another without end. Simon's hand is firm, pulling him toward the edge. He hangs on longer than he thought possible, but finally comes crying out into Simon's mouth, blood roaring in his ears. The next thing he's aware of is a cool hand stroking his forehead. "Mal?" "Huh?" "All right?" "Mm-hm. Oh, yeah. Real good here." Simon's laughing at him again. He opens his eyes, looks up. Forgets how to breathe for a second, because Simon is honestly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "Bed," Simon tells him. "Seriously. Right now." Mal lets himself be pulled up off the floor and stands, swaying, while Simon pulls the covers back. Mal has had others in this bed with him before. Not many, admittedly, but a few over the years. It was a strain to fit in here with them long enough to get some satisfaction out of the encounters, and he wouldn't have thought of letting them stay the night. Simon fits perfectly against him, curled up against his side, eyes already closed. "It's okay if I stay?" Mal pulls him closer. "You say that like I'd let you leave." ------- ..end.. home * fandoms * firefly * top