Simon smiled, looking down shyly. He wasn't used to compliments of this sort – he'd been told he was clever, professional, a genius, even. But he'd never been called something so touchingly simple, and yet heartbreakingly wonderful as beautiful.

He moved yet closer, deft, nimble fingers beginning to work on the buttons of Mal's black shirt. When that garment was in a heap on the floor, Simon pressed splayed fingers to the well-muscled chest. There were old scars there, bullet hole ones and marks left by knives, laser burns and long, deep gashes that had been messily stitched together. There was a new cut on the shoulder, too, one that Simon himself that stitched less that a week ago.

Mal shivered under the scrutiny, the satin fingers cool against his skin.

'I haven't done this in a long time,' Mal explained, 'afraid I've lost my touch.'

'We're pretty much even, since I'm about as inexperienced as one could get,' Simon replied, and seeing Mal's wide eyes, clarified, 'oh, I've had lovers. Just nothing particularly enjoyable or, well, memorable. Plus, it was about eight years ago.'

'Eight years? Try beating fifteen,' Mal smiled bitterly, remembering the long nights he spent in his cold bed, sometimes tossing and turning, often simply weeping. He never let his crew see him break down. To them, he was rock-hard, he knew that, but the loneliness often drove him near insanity. 'I was eighteen last time I slept with a girl. Never had male lovers.'

'There's always place for something new,' Simon said in a voice that sent delicious shivers down Mal's spine. 'Lie down.'

Mal obeyed. Simon ran his hands along Mal's waist, moved upwards until their mouths met once more. Simon deftly manoeuvred himself between Mal's legs, as the captain's hands traced the curve of the doctor's spine.

Simon's mouth slipped off Mal's and moved to working his neck, sucking here and licking there. Mal thought a firework exploded behind his eyelids as Simon reached a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear.

He wanted to say something, to make some exclamation of pleasure, but all he managed was something unintelligible.

After that, all was pretty much a blur. Somehow, Mal discovered he was naked and under the covers, Simon's warm and equally naked body pressing against his. Moments, or possibly several wonderful, sunlit days - no, passion-filed decades – later he was being driven to insanity by the doctor's skillful and gentle hands, and it was so gorram good that every shred of rational thought that lingered in Mal's mind fled, leaving him to enjoy the heavenly, new, sensation.

He lost all sense of time. What did it matter, anyway, when there were them, their bodies, their hands, legs, their heat, their passion. Voices bounced off the walls, sometimes cursing, sometimes screaming names, sometimes talking gibberish, sometimes simply gasping for air.

'Si,' Mal exclaimed, clinging to the neck of the younger man like a starving man to the only piece of bread, 'I need you... No more teasing...'

Simon, who had, by his own teasing, almost made himself mad with desire, complied. Together, they climbed the peak of pleasure, and seemed to cease to exist whatsoever as they toppled of it. Dissolving in sheer, pure, undiluted pleasure, disappearing one in another, dying and being born, perfectly happy and yet full of despair, all at the same time.

Simon collapsed next to Mal, spent and sated, body glowing with content, mind blissfully free of every single negative thought.

Mal's eyes were closed as he wound his hands around Simon's waist. He nuzzled his face into his lover's neck. Now he understood why he had waited all these years. This was worth it – every pleasure-filled instant, every tiny, yet frighteningly vivid emotion, every touch and caress.

'That was -' Simon exhaled, basking in the afterglow, eyes half-closed.

' - wonderful -' Mal contributed with a smile.

'- like -'

' - warm champagne... Hot chocolate...' Mal finished off.

'You know, I never thought you were that romantic,' Simon propped himself up on his elbows.

'Lots you don't know about me,' Mal grinned with his characteristic grin, but there was none of his usual cockiness – just a boyish sort of playfulness.

'I bet. You've always been a dark horse, Mal.'

'We're similar, then.'

Simon raised an elegant eyebrow.

'What?' Mal grinned, gentle hand ruffling the doctor's dark, tousled hair, 'you ain't exactly the most sociable person. Hardly ever heard you speak about your past.'

'There's too much pain in my past,' Simon said simply, lovely face turning sad, 'loss. Anger. Bitterness. Misunderstanding. Loneliness. I used to wake up, get dressed, got to work, come home, sleep. And yet all that mundane routine was not performed by me. I wasn't there, see. I was with River, every single moment. I could not care less about romance, or about what I wanted.'

'You love her.'

'Yes. Hell, I've given all I had for her – my parents included – and I wouldn't have it any other way. At least now she is with me, safe. She's the only family I have.'

'You have me now,' Mal murmured, pulling Simon closer. He placed a lingering kiss on the younger man's forehead. 'No more chattering 'bout sad things, ok? Sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow.'

A sudden thought came into Simon's head. Something so awfully obvious, and yet he had not thought of it before.

'Mal,' he said, quietly, 'should we tell the others?'

Mal winced - the same thought had entered his mind. There were certainly going to be some problems.

'I said - sleep,' he replied gruffly, 'everything – tomorrow.'

Simon obeyed, laying his head on the pillow and closing his eyes. A moment later, a pair of warm hands wound around his waist. He smiled, to no-one in particular, and quite soon was asleep. For the first time in months he slept peacefully.

Hours later he awoke, to find the bed cold and empty. He rose, still groggy from sleep, and began groping around for some clothes. Strangely enough, the lights were off.

After he had found a shirt and trousers, he went out into the corridor. It was empty. There were no lights in the other bunks, either. Most peculiar.

He made his way past the kitchen, sitting-corner and into the cockpit. Mal was sitting in the pilot's chair, looking out at the landscape. Wait, landscape? Was the boring, seemingly never-ending nothingness of space?

'Mal?' Simon placed a gentle hand on the older man's shoulder. 'Um, where are we?'

'We docked when you were asleep. Didn't you feel anything?'

'No...' Simon raised an eyebrow, 'but I do find that very surprising. Its not like a docking is something that is easy to sleep through.'

Mal swiveled around in his chair. His face was uncharacteristically relaxed, and a tiny smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

'I guess you were exhausted after almost three hours we spent together,' he said haughtily, 'and anyway, Wash took us down nice and quiet. For once.'

'Where's everyone?'

'I sent them all out. Zoe dragged Wash to some firearms exhibition, and Jayne went with them. Book took River to the local park, and Kaylee and Inara went clothes shopping. I talked them out of waking you and offered to stay and watch the ship.'

'So we're alone?'

'Absolutely,' Mal grinned, 'any ideas?'

'Lots,' Simon grabbed the captain's hand and pulled him out of the chair. 'Follow me.'