Stronghold

Simon had always been slow on the uptake. That was just his way. After watching the way he and Kaylee danced around each other for a year, Mal didn't think anything of it when Simon shied away from his touch. Mal didn't mind. He had waited three years for the man to notice him at all, and he wasn't going to push, lest he scare his treasure away.

They strolled through town, fingers lightly intertwined. It was Mal who had more trouble with this than Simon. Mal had never been keen on public displays of affection, but he took what he could get. Simon was skittish one-on-one. Mal assumed it was because he'd never been with a man before. He just got this nervous twitch about him - except when he was doctoring. At those times, one-on-one or not, he knew exactly how to move and where to put his hands and he was not afraid of anything. One day, Mal knew, Simon would find that all-business, commanding strength in private. He could be patient… for Simon.

They strolled past a fancy hotel and Simon stopped walking. Fancy hotels always had fancy restaurants and Simon liked that. Mal didn't like fancy restaurants, but he liked watching Simon in his element. Feeling the tug of Simon's fingers, Mal turned and wrapped his arms around the younger man, deciding he'd nibble on a little ear while Simon perused the menu. But Simon wasn't looking at the menu in the window. He was looking up at the layers of balconies extending fifteen stories high and two city blocks wide. Chuckling a little in surprise, Mal stopped nibbling and considered Simon carefully. He could almost see the wheels turning and the steam coming out of Simon's ears.

"Wanna?" he asked.

Simon bit his lip and looked at Mal, excitement and uncertainty playing across his face.

"Come on. It'll be fun."

"Promise?"

It was a plaintive whisper. Simon sounded so small and frightened, Mal nearly reconsidered. Instead he hugged Simon tight across the shoulders and kissed him softly across the jaw line until he felt the smile playing across Simon's face. He'd have to take this slow. He may even have to stop. He'd do it for Simon.

"I promise."

#

Simon wasn't the type of man you pounce - unless you really didn't know him. When they got to the hotel room, Simon went immediately to exploring the amenities. They'd been to enough fancy restaurants for Mal to recognize the high-class 'scouting' behavior, and he even convinced himself that it was kinda cute the way Simon sized up a place. Mal had gotten into the habit of finding the fancy details to make fun of - like napkins folded to look like ducks. So needless to say he was surprised when Simon pounced him just as he was exclaiming over soap in the shape of little grizzly bears.

Mal caught Simon in his arms, barely regaining balance before they both fell to the bathroom floor. Simon's kiss was hungry and needy, his tongue tracing Mal's lips, coaxing them open. Finding his feet, Mal wrapped Simon's legs around his waist and carried him into the main room. He could feel Simon kicking off his shoes behind him, which also had the very pleasant side effect of grinding his groin against Mal's.

Mal broke the kiss to groan and gasp for air. Simon's legs unlaced and his tip-toes touched the floor. His hands cupped Mal's chin, leading him toward the bed like a carrot before a horse. Yesu, this had been so worth waiting for!

Moaning again as Simon pushed him onto the bed, Mal watched under hooded lids as Simon unbuttoned his shirt, slid it off his shoulders, and kissed along his collar bone. Simon's hands slid softly over Mal's bare chest. Mal had been waiting so long for this. He shuddered … and nearly sobbed.

"Mal?" Startled by the shudder, Simon pulled back, his eyes flashing with concern.

"So good, Simon," Mal panted. "Please don't stop."

Simon looked doubtful, so Mal reached out for his face and pulled him into a kiss again. He felt Simon smile and sigh, and pulled gently so they could both lay on the bed. Simon broke away again.

"What is it?" Mal asked, propping himself on his elbows to look at Simon.

"No shoes on the bed," Simon said seriously, scooting back so he could tug off Mal's boots. Mal watched Simon move, trying to discern the meaning. Simon could be finicky about keeping things clean, but he might just be stalling. Wo de ma, this pace was gonna be hard - difficult.

Simon slowly removed Mal's boots and his socks, then stroked the soft skin of his instep until he squirmed.

"Oh, you're playing dirty," Mal challenged, sitting up quickly, and trapping Simon by wrapping his legs around Simon's knees, bracing them both at the end of the bed. Simon smiled lightly, his hands clutching Mal's shoulders for balance. They kissed lightly, then Mal ran his fingers up Simon's sides, triggering that ticklish spot just under the rib cage.

Simon dissolved into laughter and doubled over, trying to force Mal backwards on the bed.

"Oh no," Mal countered, pushing Simon back to standing. "No shirt, no shoes, else there's no service."

"Sounds fair," Simon grinned, languidly unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the top.

Eagerly, Mal pulled the hem of the shirt out of Simon's pants and started working the buttons from the bottom. "Let me help you with that."

He was glad when Simon didn't protest. Simon shrugged out of his shirt with the same graceful slowness as he did everything else, and then he removed his belt. When Mal reached for the buttons of his trousers, Simon swatted his hands away, then undid Mal's belt as well.

"No belts," Simon whispered.

"Not this time," Mal teased.

Simon's jaw tensed and he swallowed sharply, his hands freezing over Mal's buckle. Quickly, Mal removed his belt and tossed it aside.

"No belts, Simon," he reassured quickly. "It was a joke."

"Yeah, I ..." Simon stammered, flushing slightly, kneeling on the bed next to Mal.

"C'mere," Mal chuckled, sitting up quickly, pulling Simon into a bear hug, and tickling his sides again. Simon's laughter permeated the room with mirth as tangible as that sweet cologne he liked to wear. He looked amazing – shirtless, shoeless, beltless, hair all askew, fancy dress pants hanging low on his hips. Wriggling out of Mal's embrace, Simon rolled off the side of the bed, staying on the balls of his feet, in full tickle attack mode. Mal only had three ticklish spots - all were hard to get to and Simon knew every one. Getting onto his hands and knees, Mal crawled to the edge of the bed and swiped at the preying Simon. Simon let himself be hooked, slid under Mal, and latched onto that first ticklish spot on the inside of his elbow. Laughing and rolling, Mal managed to get Simon out from under him, but now the younger man was on his back, heading for the ear.

Ai ya! Mal squeaked in surprise as Simon plunged his tongue into Mal's ear. Mal felt his cock jump at the sensation and pulled Simon off before he came in his pants. Simon laughed at the squeak, seemingly unaware of the side effects further south, and struggled for a new access. Happily playful, Mal wrapped his arms and legs tighter around Simon, immobilizing the man, and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"Mal," Simon squealed his name as he struggled against the immobilizing embrace. "Mal, let me go."

"I don't think so," Mal teased, nipping and biting against Simon's neck and shoulder. Simon grunted and squirmed. Mal moaned and tipped his head back at the pressure against his body, then slipped a hand across the waistband of Simon's pants.

"Please stop," Simon whispered suddenly, his voice small and pleading, his body going rigid and then limp. "Please."

Mal's heart nearly stopped at the desperation, and he immediately released Simon and pulled back. Simon didn't move. He just laid there like a defeated little lump of a person. There was something deep there. Some deep-seated pain Mal had never suspected.

"Simon?" he called, tentatively touching the younger man's shoulder.

Simon groaned and buried his face in the pillow, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

"I'm sorry," Simon gushed. "I'm sorry, I just... I'm sorry. I won't ... just ... I need a minute."

"Take your time," Mal soothed softly, stroking Simon's back. "Did I squeeze ya too hard?"

"No, it's nothing ... I was having fun, I just ..."

A few seconds later, Simon pulled himself to kneeling, shook the strain off his face, and turned back to Mal.

"Where were we?" Simon asked coyly. He looked suddenly weary, and smiled only weakly, reaching behind Mal's knee to tickle him again.

"Simon, what the hell just happened?" Mal asked sternly, ignoring Simon's playful invitation.

"I'm – sorry."

"I ain't mad, Simon. I don't want an apology, I want to know what I did."

"I – " Simon stuttered, then choked, his eyes shifting, his fingers tracing patterns on the bedspread. Mal brought Simon's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. Simon blinked slowly and sighed, his jaw setting, his eyes smoldering with self-disappointment.

"Simon?"

"Dammit," Simon growled, turning his head away. The anger burned through his eyes and rippled through his muscles. Suddenly, he jumped off the bed and stormed across the room. He broke into a series of curses in English, Chinese, and then another language that Mal didn't even recognize. It was a tantrum to rival River on a bad day – or even Jayne – and Simon just kept going, pounding against the walls, beating against the curtains. Mal stayed frozen in shock until Simon yanked the alarm clock out of the wall and chucked it across the room, knocking over lamp in the process.

When he reached for the lamp, Mal grabbed his wrists, forcing Simon to fight him instead. Simon barely noticed him. His eyes were dark with pain, his mouth curled into a grimace, his hands grasping and ripping at the past.

"Simon, talk to me."

"Cao!"

"You ain't breakin' this room. It costs too gorram much," Mal grunted, grabbing at Simon's wrists to stop him. Simon shook him off, panting with exertion. He glared angrily, boring a hole right through Mal without actually seeing him. Finally he released a breath and paced the room, running his fingers through his hair.

"Tian sha de e mo!" Simon cried at the ceiling. "It's been ten gorram, gou shi years and still he wins! I can't …" His chest heaved and Simon ripped at his hair, losing steam. More than anything, he looked angry at himself. "Ta ma de. Cao," he murmured.

Mal waited out the anguish, watching, heartbroken, as Simon's head dropped in defeat. Tentatively, he came up beside Simon and touched his shoulder.

"Much as this dirty language comin' out of your pretty mouth is turning me on, my deep intuition for the human condition tells me that something else is going on here."

Simon huffed in frustration and slouched on the bed, resting his forearms on his knees, looking disgustedly at the space in front of him. "Sorry. I just … don't think I can do this."

"Okay."

"No. It's not," Simon retorted fiercely, looking squarely at Mal, blue eyes burning with self-hatred. "You've been so patient, and here I've gotten you all worked up…"

"Simon, I don't want anything from you that you ain't ready and willing to
give." Gently, Mal sat behind Simon on the bed, wrapping both arms and legs around Simon in a gentle hug, kissing the back of his neck.

"I am willing," Simon insisted, though he gave no response to Mal's suggestive touch. "I just don't know that I can ever be ready."

Dejectedly, he leaned his head back against Mal's shoulder. He hung his hands over Mal's until Mal released him from the hug and their fingers interlaced. Simon took one of Mal's hands, kissed his palm, then released it to other mischief.

"There are days I want you so bad I can't see straight," Simon confessed. "I just … don't know what to do about it."

"I have a few ideas," Mal smiled, his hand sliding down the front of Simon's pants, surprised to find him not only soft, but completely unresponsive.

"It should be good," Simon rationalized distractedly. "I know in my head that it should. It just never has been."

"Never?" Mal pulled back in surprise.

Simon shifted, a little uncomfortable. "It only … ever … hurt."

"Even with Kaylee?"

"Stop," Simon whispered, and Mal dropped the subject like a hot potato. It was always hard for him to acknowledge that Kaylee had won Simon first. He hugged Simon again, resting his head on the younger man's shoulder, no longer interested in kissing or … well, anything. He was surprised when Simon kept talking.

"No. Women are different. There are ways… never mind… I'm just trying to separate what I know about you from him. From … I asked him to stop."

Mal struggled to keep his breathing calm, hearing the strain in Simon's voice as he spoke that last phrase.

"Simon, you asked me to stop."

"I did."

"And then I stopped."

"You did."

The pain was so tangible. Mal started running soothing strokes up Simon's torso, just trying to get him back to the present. He needed to separate himself from the man who had done this to Simon.

"What else can I do?" Mal asked.

Simon lowered his eyes submissively, and spoke so quietly, Mal almost didn't hear. "Don't trap me like that again."

"Okay," Mal agreed, making the mental note. "Sorry about that. I know I promised you'd have fun. What else?"

Simon's whole body pulsed a little in surprised. Mal loosened his grip, and Simon relaxed against him a little more. He shifted a little, started to speak, then stopped again.

"Don't let him win, Simon."

"Gou shi."

"What else?"

"Let me …" Simon choked, searching for words. "Come."

Mal had no idea what to make of a request like that, and deflected his confusion with humor. "Well, there are certain situations – say the dinner table – where it might not be appropriate, but – "

"Mal," Simon pleaded, silencing him again. "Just don't make me … don't make it hurt."

Mal captured the tear in the corner of Simon's eye with a gentle kiss and rocked him slowly. "Ok, Simon, here's the deal. I love you."

Mal paused in surprise. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but now it was on the table. Simon nodded, still listening, his muscles relaxing slightly.

"I love you," Mal repeated. "So I stop when you say stop. And you always get to come first. And I don't come 'til you tell me."

"Mal, no," Simon whispered, horror and shock flashing across his face. Mal chuckled lightly and kissed his nose.

"Ok, I may just come when I come," Mal conceded. "But you get to come whenever you want, and I'll try and make sure you go first."

"But it –"

"It won't hurt ever again."

"Promise?"

Mal nodded. "Promise. Does that sound reasonable?"

"That's ... yes," Simon agreed with a soft, relieved smile. Mal smiled back, kissed Simon softly, and laid them both back on so that they could just rest in each other's embrace. After a few minutes resting, Simon shimmied up Mal's body and sucked on Mal's earlobe. Mal groaned with pleasure.

"Something you want, Simon?" he asked, barely having the breath to speak as Simon flicked his tongue around his ear.

"I want to come."

"Damn straight," Mal smiled, capturing Simon's lips in a deep kiss. "How do you wanna come?"

"How?" Simon repeated, sucking on Mal's lower lip, siphoning out all reason and thought.

"You want my hand on your cock and my mouth on your body, or the other way
around?"

Simon pulled back, but instead of looking frightened, he looked thoughtful - like no one had ever given him a choice before. "Which is better?"

Mal guffawed and slowly ghosted his fingers over Simon's body. "We'll try it both ways and you can tell me."

It took a few stops and starts before Mal had Simon coming the first time, spilling himself all over Mal's hand and the bedspread. It was difficult because Simon was so reluctant to let go, but once he did Simon whooped and trembled and smiled so tight tears fell out of his eyes. He was still quivering with the aftershocks when he started begging Mal to let him come again. The second time was both faster and slower – faster in that Mal did not have to convince Simon to let go; slower in that Simon trusted him enough to let him tease a lot longer. When Simon came in Mal's mouth, he screamed and howled and then he passed out.

Once he regained consciousness, Simon was giggling and gasping, trying to get enough breath in him to lap his own seed off of Mal's lips. There was something so strange about seeing a grown man giggle, but it made Mal's stomach flutter to see it.

"Definitely like the second way," Simon laughed, swatting loosely at Mal's fingers as they traced his naval.

"Better than the first?"

"That may require more experimentation," Simon teased, finally capturing Mal's lips and sucking on his tongue. "There's something –" he nipped Mal's chin; "so amazing-" kissed his eyelids; "about having your face next to mine when I come."

"But more messy," Mal joked, losing himself in another kiss.

"And I didn't pass out."

"I warned you about going twice in the same half hour."

Simon groaned and plundered his body with kisses. "But it feels so good."

"It does at that," Mal agreed.

"Again," Simon begged. "Again. Again. Again."

"Give it a rest, Simon. I know you're feeling spry, but even you need rest."

"Again," Simon giggled, sticking his tongue in Mal's ear, making him squeak. Mal laughed and pulled Simon into a loose tackle, careful not to trap him.

"I'm telling you, Simon. You need a break."

"Not me," Simon whispered, wriggling down on Mal's body, his hand reaching for the button of Mal's pants. "Your turn."

Mal laughed and groaned and did not stop Simon from moving. He'd been getting harder and harder over the last hour and he ached to come. Simon pulled the last garment free, then straddled his lap. Skin to skin. Mal nearly died and he placed Simon's hand on his aching cock.

"Come any time," Simon whispered, ghosting his fingers along the ridges, his lashes batting against Mal's cheek.

"Make me," Mal challenged, grinding his body against Simon's.

Simon lifted off and Mal whimpered at the loss. "You okay?"

"Keep going," Mal encouraged, his voice guttural and husky.

"I think this will help," Simon whispered, picking up Mal's arm, starting at the palm, then kissing his way up. Mal whimpered and moaned with pleasure, grasping control with all that was in him. Simon's tongue crept up his neck, then thrust into his ear again. Before Mal could get out that ridiculous squeak, he lost control and orgasm burst through him as he spurt white hot over his stomach. Never in his life had he come without being touched.

Simon sat back on his heels and watched Mal ride out the waves of his release. "Not what I'd intended, but effective," Simon commented when Mal finally had the strength to open his eyes. They both laughed.

"What did you intend?" Mal asked as Simon found a damp towel and started patting them clean.

"Coming together in my hand." Simon smiled wickedly. "You really want to go twice in half an hour?"

Mal growled and pulled Simon close. "You, Simon Tam, have a wicked, wicked tongue."

"Mmmm," Simon agreed. "It seems so innocuous. I bet I wouldn't get more
than a few looks ... if I tried it at the dinner table."

Mal jerked up in surprise, making the laughter fall out of Simon's body.

"I wouldn't," Simon grinned, straddling him again and kissing down the centerline of his body.

"How come I don't trust you?"

"Because I have a wicked, wicked tongue," Simon teased. And then set out to prove it.

#

Mal never would've thought he had it in him, but Simon made him come so hard he managed to squirt his own chin. Though still an amateur, Mal recognized Simon's skill in mimicking the techniques that had just been used on him. For a brief, glorious moment, he'd been in Simon's mouth. So painfully brief. One ill-timed thrust had ruined that, though. It was mercy that brought Simon's hand back to his body, and sheer force of will that got them both coming together in Simon's hand. Mal was shaking with joy, laughter, and triumph at the end. Simon had collapsed against his chest, panting and shuddering, his cheek sticking to Mal's skin. Slowly Mal regained his sense of the room and of Simon heaving against him.

"You okay?" Mal asked.

Simon nodded, but didn't lift his head. "You were right. That was fun … a little … at the end."

"What happened in the middle? When you took me in your mouth?"

"Later," Simon panted. Mal ran a hand sympathetically through his hair.

"There's a trick to it. "

Simon nodded, lifting his eyes finally. Mal couldn't read anything in them but exhaustion. "Tell me later. Sleep now."

Simon tore away at the damp bedspread, yanked the firmly tucked sheets, and lay down gracefully. Though his legs were wobbly, Mal found a wet towel to clean them both off, knowing Simon wouldn't want to wake up sticky. Then Mal snuggled up in Simon's arms, forcing Simon to hold him instead of the other way around. It felt unnatural, and Simon didn't seem to keen on the position. But if Mal wanted Simon to take charge in the bedroom, he'd have to stop coddling him. Mal shifted, uncertainly, wondering if he should just give up the silly mission. But then Simon stroked him softly across the chest and moaned pleasantly in his ear.

"I love you, Mal."

#