Disclaimer: none of them are mine, blah blah, yak yak.
Rating: NC-17
Sum: A little piece of Mal/Inara angsty erotica. Kinda somber.
She slipped down the stairs as quietly as she could, and peered down the corridor as she passed toward the dining area. His door was shut and there was no light seeping around the edges. For the moment, Inara was safe.
They were on a destructive path, and she reflects on it as she fills the kettle with water. He rarely even speaks to her –no more stolen moments in the cargo bay or quick exchanges on the catwalk. They don't even fight anymore. He only comes to her when he can't help it, when he can't stay away from her any longer. He wraps her up in all his passion and fury and doesn't stay a minute longer when he's done. She has let it go on this way, pretending that it is something she does for him rather than something she needs for herself. It's killing her. Killing them both, she imagines as she reaches high to get a tin mug from the top shelf.
She lets out a gasp of surprise and fear when her waist is grasped by two rough hands. He won't let her turn, just presses close against her back for a long moment. He raises a hand to remove the pin from her hair, letting her dark curls tumble down around her shoulders. Pushing it all to one side, he bites harshly at her neck and works his way to her shoulder until a soft moan escapes her.
With that, he reaches for the stove and turns it off using the same hand to cross her waist and spin her towards him. Inara moves to kiss him, but he fluidly picks her up and sets her on the counter top. One more move and he's kissing her neck again, fingers creeping up her thigh. God's, does he plan to take her in the kitchen?
Another moment and she doesn't care. Her hand is caught in his hair and she is pressed as close as she can get to him. His voice startles her. "My bunk," lips against her ear, an order not a request. He doesn't move until she nods in assent, then pulls her off the counter.
He kicks open the hatch and lets her down first, forcing her to slide past him to get down the ladder. Once they are both on the ground, she tries to reach for a kiss again but he dodges and presses his mouth to her collar bone instead. He tugs at the knot on the small of her back to loosen her robe. But when she moves to unfasten his pants, he grabs her wrist away forcefully –"Not tonight."
His eyes are angry and defiant as he pushes her towards the tiny bed. She collapses onto it with his weight on top of her. She wants to taste him badly, but he works his way down from her ear to her throat. She can't help but moan when he reaches her breast, lets his mouth linger there for a moment and then moves on. His hands trace along her curves, following his mouth down her body. He gives a soft nip to her inner thigh before his lips and tongue slip between hers legs.
Her body arcs in immediate pleasure, and she closes her eyes tight against the sensation. As his tongue swirls in unceasing patterns, she feels the wave begin to flow and then to surge across her body. Her body trembles as he brings her closer, his strong hands at her hips keep her from moving away. She needs this so much it begins to hurt, and then the wave breaks and crashes down. She throws her head back and calls out wordlessly as he pushes her over the edge.
He doesn't stop his patterns with her climax. He draws circles with his tongue until she shudders again and gives a little groan that is something like pain. Finally, he moves his lips to her thigh again and lets his hands smooth over her skin.
His face is close to hers now, but he still won't touch her lips. Her breathing finally slows a bit, and their hands wander across each other's limbs a while. This was nothing like their usual routine, and she knows her confusion must be written across her face.
She pushes her hands down towards his pants again, and is met with angry resistance. With a harsh "No" he shifts her so that they both properly fit on the bed. Laying on his side now, he pushes her onto her back, and runs a hand down her body from her throat to her hips. His fingers toy with her a bit as he kisses and nips at her neck, and then his fingers slide between her legs and into her.
A sharp intake of breath as she tries to move away, but he keeps her close. Why? she thinks. She should have brought her knees together the moment he touched her. It's too late. His fingers stroke inside her until she writhes with his every move. She's close again, so close. He knows that one stroke of his thumb against that hidden place will do her in. He freezes, pushes up against her roughly, lips on her ear.
"No more games, Inara. You need you me, you come to me. Are we clear?" He twists his fingers inside of her and she gasps. "Yes" her breath barely allows her to get it out. A few more caresses and she shakes to pieces inelegantly in his arms.
He strokes his hands over her body as she trembles. She turns her face up, her eyes pools of water full to the brim, and he finally claims her mouth. Softly at first, then not at all softly. "Stay" he mutters as he pulls away. It is meant to be another command, but its quaver and softness belie his intention. She touches her lips to his as an answer.
Her hands begin to wander down his body, but before they get far he rolls her over. Holding her tight, he presses her back into his chest, burying his face behind her hair, encircling her with his arms and tossing a leg over both of hers. She was sufficiently pinned and unable to get away. "Mal?" she questioned, but when no answer came she knew their evening was over. He had gotten all he intended and their breathing deepened until sleep overcame them both.