Word Count: 2678 words Rating: NC-17 - here there be smut Pairing: Mal/Inara. Cameo by Sushi. A/N: Drabble! Written as a continuation of terimaru's A Cargo Smuggler, His Girl, and Her...Well, You'll See... it was asked for, I wrote, I make no claim to it being any good. I wrote it in the wee hours of the morning, and as I've said eslewhere, when one has writer's block (also known as hyperwriteosis in some circles) one takes what one can get!

So Much For Fantasies by 2x2

“Take your shirt off,” Inara said as she practically bounced back into the galley, scissors in one hand and that damned goldfish bowl cradled in the other.

“Huhwhat?” said Mal hesitantly.

“You don’t want me to get clippings in your shirt, do you?” she asked innocently, placing Sushi on the countertop.

“Well, I… that is, uh… Zoe don’t never have to take it off,” he said and mentally slapped himself at the frown she threw at him over her shoulder. The woman wants you to take your shirt off, sha gua! he berated himself. “Still, they, uh, do itch some after,” he recovered quickly, unbuttoning the offending garment hurriedly.

“We should wash it first,” Inara said to herself and she went to the sink and filled a bowl with water, bringing it back to the table as Mal removed his shirt. “Here, sit,” she said, pulling out a chair and turning it backwards. “Face the other way and then lean back so I can wash your hair.”

He gave her an unsure look but complied, straddling the chair and grasping the back with his hands as he let her guide his shoulders to the table’s edge, her hands warm against his bare skin. He swallowed.

“You do this for the rest of crew?” he asked, staring up at her as she placed his rolled up towel beneath his neck to support his head. He couldn’t help but notice the tantalizing view of her cleavage this position afforded him when she bent above him. He swallowed again, drawing in a deep breath. This was turning out to be a might interesting experience all around, he mused.

“Hmmm. Mostly. I don’t do Jayne’s, but I’ve done Kaylee’s and River’s, and as I said, even Zoe’s on occasion.”

“What about the good doctor?” he asked suspiciously, a small worry tugging at him.

“No, Simon hasn’t asked me to,” she said absently, running her fingers through his bangs, combing his hair back out of his face.

“You done anyone’s hair ‘as weren’t womenfolk?” He was finding it hard to concentrate with the feel of her fingers in his hair, nails trailing over his scalp gently. “Crew-wise,” he was quick to add, the idea of hearing about her trimming her Clients an unwelcome one.

“No, but…What has that to with anything?” she said, taking her hands away and staring down at him.

He blinked up at her, knowing he was in a delicate circumstance all of a sudden and he cleared his throat. “’Jus’ don’t wanna come out a’ this lookin’ all girlified, if you take my meaning.”

She huffed. “That doesn’t show a particular faith in my skills, Captain,” she said, pouting slightly, but he knew she wasn’t really mad because her fingers resumed their combing and he closed his eyes contentedly.

“Oh, I got all manner a’ faith in your skills, ‘Nara,” he started, then snapped his mouth shut, nearly biting his tongue in the process, his eyes flying open as he realized just what had come out of his mouth. “Uh, that is to say, uh… I mean… I don’t mean, I mean… “

Inara smothered a grin, biting back a chuckle and allowed only the arch of one finely manicured eyebrow as any outward sign of reaction. “That’s good to know,” she said, her voice tinged with humour and Mal closed his eyes, shaking his head minutely as a self-deprecating grin spread over and then faded from his lips.

He opened his mouth to say something more but the words were lost in a low groan as Inara poured a cup of warm water over his hair, the heat seeping into his skin, followed by her fingers, massaging his scalp.

She smiled down at him, eyes trailing over the broad expanse of his chest, scars and all. She wondered if she could push the hair washing into a sponge bath, just so she could put her hands on him there, experience the firmness of his muscles, the shape and feel of him beneath her fingers. For now, the surprising softness of his hair giving way to slick, clinging strands was tantalizing in its own way, and she pressed her fingertips into his scalp harder, pleased when she was rewarded with another sound from him; she watched rise and fall of his adam’s apple, felt a desire to run her tongue over it, taste him, feel the hum of his moans beneath her lips…

She shook herself, biting her lip against the blush that was stealing over her chest and neck, thankful (and at the same time, not) that he still had his eyes closed. “How’s that feel?” she asked, surprised at the almost tenor pitch of her voice…

…that slipped over him like warm honey. She was doing all manner of things to his senses, none of them unpleasant and he hummed deep in his throat in appreciation. “’Conjure I’m beginnin’ to think this haircut thing were one a’ your better ideas,” he mumbled.

“This is just the hair washing part,” she said, a smile in her voice that his lips answered.

“Don’t matter,” he avowed as she poured another cup over his head and gathered his hair in her hands, fingers playing over the backs of his jaw and up under his earlobes. He shuddered, pulling in a shaky breath as she squeezed as much water from his hair as possible, forcing her hands steady, her own breaths coming faster in reaction to his.

“Sit up,” she said breathlessly, and he opened his eyes, staring up at her, the flare of desire unmistakable in his gaze to one as trained in reading such things as Inara. Then he was pulling himself up, water running over his shoulders and down his spine and he arched his back with a quick intake of breath, mesmerizing her with the play of his muscles beneath his skin. Blinking rapidly she grabbed his towel and unrolled it, catching the trickle of water before it could disappear below the line of his trousers, her fingers pressing against the base of his spine through the soft terrycloth. She felt him tense, his back going rigid as he drew in another sharp breath that in no way came across as discouraging and Inara licked her lips in hesitation. She knew what she wanted to do, but wasn’t sure they were ready to take that step in this slowly growing relationship they’d been cultivating. The message she’d seen in his eyes was clear enough, and echoed her own mounting need, but it had never been a question of whether they wanted one another.

Cautiously, senses tuned to his response, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the middle of his spine, tongue lapping gently at the water there as she closed her eyes.

Mal’s reaction was immediate and potent; his whole body stiffened, including the part of him that had already begun aching for attention, as warm, moist heat danced over his skin, driving the breath from his lungs in an explosion of want and need. His fingers grasped the chair back in an excruciating grip, knuckles turning white as he sucked in a ragged breath, chest heaving as a curse was torn from his lips. Christ almighty, the woman was licking him!

Inara smiled against his skin, taking his response as a positive one, and she worked her way up his back, tracing each raised ridge of his spine with her tongue and lips, her hands letting the towel fall unheeded as she brought them up to his shoulders and then buried them in his damp hair again, fingers caressing this time. His head dropped toward his chest, an unmistakable groan rumbling through him as her mouth reached his shoulder, lips trailing up and over to his collar bone, teeth coming into play gently as her hair spilled over him. Sliding her hand down to his ribs, she felt him shake beneath her, his whole body thrumming with tension and she thrilled at his reaction to her touch, exceedingly happy that her taking was giving him just as much in return.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Mal turned his face into her hair, inhaling her scent, letting the silken tendrils tickle his skin. Then his mouth came into contact with her jaw and he bit gently, lips closing over her delicate flesh and he felt her hand clench against his side, her breath come in stuttering bursts and she leaned into him, arching her head and baring her throat. He scraped his teeth along the line of her jaw to her neck, tilting his head backwards at an awkward angel to reach, lips and teeth drawing a shuddering moan from her and a breathless “Oh, Mal,” and he felt the last of his restraint snap. He was off the chair in an instant, knocking it over in his haste as he scrambled past it, hands reaching out to grasp Inara’s face between them and pull her lips to his, mouth swallowing her moan as her hands fisted in his hair tightly.

She felt his tongue on her lips and let her own dart out to meet it, draw him into her mouth and glide along its surface, taste him. His hands came up around her back, pulling her against him as her fingers trailed up his torso, palms splaying across his chest, testing the hard, solidness beneath her hands before gliding back down to dance across his ribs. She reached around him to pull his lower body flush against hers, pressing into the hardness she felt against her hip, one hand snaking into the back of his pants as far as she could reach, squeezing the flesh she found there.

Mal swayed into her, moaning as he buried his face in her hair again, lips seeking out every spot that made her moan or shiver. He delighted in every reaction he elicited, ignoring the small part of him that wondered if her responses were premeditated, dismissing them entirely when her breathy words washed over him a moment later.

“Wo de tian a, Mal, I want you,” she gasped, lips grazing his ear, teeth catching his earlobe and nipping gently before she swirled her tongue in the seashell curl, sending shivers racing down his spine. God in heaven, he wanted her too.

He moved his hand back around to her front, sliding up to cup her breast, thumb brushing her nipple as it sprang up beneath his touch. She kissed him hungrily and said his name again, reaching down to cup him with her hands, pressing her palm against the swell of his hardness. “Chirst, ‘Nara,” he moaned, his senses overwhelmed. He’d dreamed of this for so long, imagined it a hundred times and more… and realized suddenly that this wasn’t the place to do it. She deserved somewhere better, someplace special.

“Wait… wait,” he gasped, lifting his lips from her and stilling her hands. “Not here… not…”

“Where?” she groaned, pulling him back to her mouth, fingers dancing over the front of his trousers. “My bed?” His face paled slightly at that and he shook his head. “Yours?” she questioned breathlessly, working at the buttons of his pants now. He thought of the dull grey walls and the smallness of his bunk, not to mention the pile of weeks old laundry he needed to get done next time they were planet side, and shook his head again. It should be someplace happy, someplace bright. “’Hell with it,” he growled, hoisting her up, her legs wrapping around him as he carried her to the table. He conjured this was the happiest, brightest place on his boat, excepting maybe Kaylee’s bunk, and he sure as diyu wasn’t goin’ to do this down there.

Resolved, he sat Inara on the table and moved between her legs, groaning as her fingers resumed their work on his pants even as he pressed against her and she claimed his mouth with hers once more. In seconds she had him freed from his trousers, his hot length in her hands, fingers dancing over skin stretched taut. She pushed him back suddenly, sliding from the table and to her knees, dragging his pants with her and taking him in her mouth before he could protest; this act always irrevocably painted in his mind as something only a whore would do, but the feel of the moist heat of her mouth surrounding him, teeth, lips and tongue working him, was more than enough to stifle any attempt he might have made to stop her.

Inara looked up at him, having sensed his initial reluctance, but he seemed to be quite happy now and she smiled around him. She’d wanted to taste him the moment she’d held him in her hand, her desire to learn him, his feel, his taste, his weight hitting her more powerfully than she could have anticipated. She felt the quiver in his legs and knew she could bring an end to this quickly if she were to so choose, but that was not what she wanted to happen this night.

She stood again, sliding her body up his, maneuvering herself back onto the table and his hands were suddenly shoving her dress up her thighs, fingers splaying over her, coaxing her legs apart so they could dip in between. Finding her wet, he ran his fingers over her, pressing the heel of his palm flat against her sex as he ground his hand into her. She linked her arms around his neck, pulling him forward, seeking his mouth again, a cry bursting from her as he entered her with two fingers. His body tight and still full of that thrumming energy, he slowly began to move in and out of her heat, swallowing her mewls of pleasure as she grabbed at his hair.

She threw her head back with a guttural groan as he added a third finger, his thumb grazing her clitoris roughly, sending shocks through her with each brush and thrust, building her need until she was clutching at him, urging him up onto the table with her and between her legs as she laid back on the hard surface, her hand seeking him out and guiding him to her.

She hissed as he entered her, the sound caressing his ears as he sank into her and he wondered briefly if anything he could ever experience would ever come close to this moment, before all thought was thrust from his mind, save for her beneath him, around him, urging him on faster, harder… Her nails dug into his back, trailing scratches across his shoulder blades and he wove his fingers in her hair, pulling her up into a kiss, one hand sliding around her back to support her.

“Mal, Mal, Mal, Mal!” she cried out suddenly, pulsing around him and he felt a tightening in his own lower regions, thrusting wildly…

“Mal.” …rushing for the edge as he…

“Mal? Are you coming?”

…as he…

“MAL!”

“Huh?” Mal blinked, the galley coming back into focus, realizing he’d been standing there, towel in hand while Inara’d been calling his name for who knew how long.

She stood in the middle of the room holding a pair of scissors and wearing a puzzled expression. “Do you still want me to cut your hair?” she asked uncertainly, afraid he’d changed his mind.

“Whu..what? Oh!... oh… yeah. Uh… yeah, just…” he wiped a hand over his face, blinking rapidly as he forced his breathing to even out. “Sorry. Got lost there for a minute.”

“I was beginning to wonder,” she admitted, pulling out a chair and motioning to it with a flourish. “Have a seat.”

He stumbled over to the chair and sat, sighing as she took the towel and laid it over his shirt-clad shoulders. So much for fantasies, he thought sadly.

“Hmmm,” Inara said as she ran her fingers through his hair appraisingly. “Maybe we should wash it….”

“Uh…. Well.. you know.. if you think so,” said Mal casually, fighting a smile.

THE END?