A/N: Kaynara, Kaynara, Kaynara - this litte one-off is all her fault ... she kept begging and begging for me to write some Mal/Inara smut - and I caved. *sigh* Oh well ...

Thanks to Kaynara for the beta as well. If you hate this, it's all her fault - if you love it, well, it's because I'm a genius writer! :op

Please read and comment - I hope to have Chapter 3 of my prompt series, The Right To Love, up by tomorrow - stay tuned!

***

Dancin’

***

The muffled shouts of the crew returning from a mission reached Inara all the way in her shuttle. Her hairbrush freezing partway through its stroke, she listened for Mal’s voice, relieved to hear him bellowing orders as the cargo bay door clanked into place and the whine of Serenity’s engines permeated the air.

Listening for a second more, her heartbeat sped up rapidly as she heard Zoe call for Simon. With barely another thought, Inara pulled her dressing gown tight about her and rushed out to the catwalk, her still damp hair fanning out behind her.

With wide, brown eyes, she scanned the scene below, trying to assess who exactly was hurt. She saw Zoe, standing over someone and Inara’s anxiety rose tenfold. It was no secret the first mate was partial to Mal, for her to be so concerned now … praying she was wrong, Inara made it down to the bay’s floor, rushing up to the side of the mule, frantically trying to ascertain who was bleeding.

Later she would curse her transparency. Since Miranda it seemed that her emotions were on constant display and while she had always secretly envied Kaylee for the woman’s ability to feel so deeply, Inara found the lack of emotional control disconcerting. But she seemed loathed to stop it. Of course, Mal didn’t help. The man still had the ability to push every button she owned and she was fairly certain he’d installed some himself. He could rile her, silence her and weaken her with a look and Inara wondered how he’d gotten so adept at reading her emotions – and when she’d become so incapable of interpreting his.

As she shook the thoughts away, her eyes found him, and Inara inhaled sharply as she recognized the bright red stain on the lower part of his shirt. Not thinking, she hoisted herself up onto the vehicle’s footboard, reaching for him. He glanced to her, his eyes conveying a bit of confusion as he took the hand she offered and pulled himself to his feet.

“What are you doing?” she questioned urgently, her surprise rising as he vaulted easily to the deck. Glancing to him, she reached out a shaky hand and touched the still wet blood on his abdomen. “Mal, you need to sit down. You must be in shock.”

“Over here, doc,” Zoe ordered, ignoring the interplay between the Captain and ex-Companion as Simon hurried to the vehicle and peered in, assessing Jayne’s injury.

“I need him in the infirmary,” Simon ordered, missing Inara’s wide-eyed look of disbelief as Mal moved away from her and aided Zoe in carrying the hulking and bleeding mercenary from the room. Jayne’s grumblings of discomfort could be heard long after he’d exited the room, leaning heavily on Zoe and Mal and cursing a blue streak.

Once the bay was clear, Inara found herself standing, dumbfounded. Her heartbeat was still a bit too rapid and she realized at that moment how different her life had become, how her priorities had shifted seemingly overnight. She had seen the blood staining Mal’s shirt and her life had ended. Her heart had stopped and everything had slowed to a crawl.

She had thought, months ago, after Nandi, she was already in too deep. Shaking her head slightly, she rubbed a hand over her eyes as she realized she had merely been skimming the surface.

The touch of a hand to her shoulder startled her and Inara turned sharply to find Mal standing there, dirty shirt and all, a look of concern and trepidation in his blue eyes. “You all right?” he asked, taking a step closer even as Inara backed away.

“Unbelievable,” she breathed, replacing her anxiety with anger. Anger she could handle, anger made her powerful and righteous, two emotions that immediately put a barrier between her and the infuriating captain standing before her. That distance, artificial or not, was the only thing that had kept her from acting on her true feelings.

Face flushing, Inara started to work herself into a frenzy. “Liu kou shui de biao zi he hou zi de ben er zi,” she spat, advancing on him. One blood-red fingernail poked sharply into his chest. “Do you think that’s funny? Look at you!”

Glancing down to his shirt front and then back to her with a look of pure confusion, Mal asked, “Yeah, so?”

“I thought you –“ Inara stopped herself, unwilling to finish. They had been dancing for so long, she knew when she had to be careful. If she faltered, even once, if she allowed herself to stop twirling about this twisted dance floor, she would be vulnerable, open to him, and she didn’t know if that was something she could do.

Refusing to be baited, and knowing she was already treading on dangerous ground, Inara moved past him. “You know what? Never mind.”

Mal turned to regard her retreating backside, appreciating the view for a split second before again focusing on the matter at hand. He’d had enough of this craziness: one minute the confounded woman was making him tea and smiling at him as if he was the only man in the ‘verse; the next, she was accusing him of … well, something, he wasn’t rightly sure what, and acting as though he’d just killed a whole farm of puppies.

Taking two long strides to catch up with her, Mal’s hand caught around her elbow, fingers sliding over the smooth silk of her robe. Whirling her around to face him, he demanded, “What the hell did I do now?”

Shrugging out of his hold, Inara crossed her arms over her chest and hissed, “Nothing, Mal. You didn’t do anything.”

Frowning at her, he took another step forward, trying to ignore the heady scent of roses and soap that surrounded her. “Look, darlin’, I do know how you love to get testy, but typically you only do it when I done somethin’ wrong.” As she glared, he added, “But I can’t for the life o’ me figure out what it is this time.”

As her eyes flitted down to take in his soiled shirt, Inara’s voice softened and she explained. “Look at you.” Taking a moment to watch Mal again look down at his shirt, she wondered if he would get it this time. When his blue eyes once again alighted to her face, the spark of recognition was there. “I heard you come back. And Zoe was yelling for Simon … And I saw your shirt …” Inara knew there was no point in finishing the statement. She could tell based on the tight lines that had formed around his eyes that he understood.

His expression softened, causing Inara’s heart to once again beat rapidly, although for an entirely different reason. Did he have any idea what those eyes could do to her?

“Ain’t no secret we get shot at, ‘Nara,” he told her, trying to make light of it. As her brown eyes flamed, he realized it’d been the wrong tact.

“No, Mal, it’s not. I’m glad you think this is a joke.” She couldn’t take this anymore, could not stand that smug look of his or the way his eyes crinkled as he tried to smile to ease her obvious anxiety. Turning again to retreat to the relative safety of her shuttle, she gasped slightly as his hand once again closed over her elbow. This time however, he tugged her towards a corner of the bay, stepping behind a stack of high crates.

Standing between her and the small exit, Mal’s eyes held a mixture of anger and desperation. “All right, ‘Nara. Enough. We’re gonna have this out.”

Annoyed that he could so easily order her about, Inara dropped her voice to a growl. “Have what out, Mal?”

Gesturing to the small space separating them, Mal told her, “This. Whatever it is. We been dancin’ so long, I’m gettin’ tired.” Inara blinked rapidly at his admission. He had never spoken so plainly before and to hear the words spill from Mal’s lips was a shock.

However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded haughtily, thrusting her chin in the air and trying to act as though his nearness wasn’t causing her skin to flush.

Taking one step closer and thereby pressing their bodies together in the tight space, Mal took her by the shoulders and whispered, “Yeah, you do.”

She met his eyes and knew she was a goner. The anger and confusion were gone, those baby blue orbs now looking to her with a mix of tenderness and passion she had dreamt of for weeks, months even. As her heartbeat sped up once again, she bit her lower lip uncertainly, feeling her skin flushing red, knowing that the crimson wave was sneaking up her chest and over her neck. He was so close, she could smell him – gun powder, leather and a bit of sweat. It was the smell of a man, a hard-working man who knew what it meant to fight and struggle and was thankful for everything he had, big or small.

He was so unlike her normal clientele and the thought made her giddy. He was warm and whole and his hands, rubbing over her upper arms were rough, even through the silkiness of her robe. Inara was desperate for those hands to touch her every where, every inch of her skin on fire, praying to feel the roughness and tenderness she knew he’d treat her with.

“’Nara,” he breathed, his lips full and pink somehow hovering over her own. Gripping her arms just a bit more tightly, he pulled her mouth to his, crushing his lips against hers even as Inara gasped at the suddenness of the kiss.

She was surrounded by him, and his mouth, oh merciful Buddha, his mouth and his tongue had thoroughly possessed her own. Inara could feel his need, both as his tongue explored her mouth, warring with hers and as his hardening erection rubbed against her abdomen. The knowledge that he wanted her that badly made her own body pool with desire and she reveled in the feel of the wet warmth between her thighs. She moaned softly and Mal took the sound as encouragement and held her tighter, his arms encircling her back as Inara’s wound their way up and around his neck. Her fingers fell into his hair, and she gripped a few strands tightly, tugging his mouth from hers so she could breathe.

Unable to stop touching her, Mal’s lips trailed down her jaw and to her neck, and she moaned again as his tongue and teeth nipped at her collarbone. One of those rough and glorious hands peeled her robe back from her shoulder and Inara felt her knees weaken as his fingers trailed over her skin following the path of his tongue and lips.

Her mouth was close to his ear, the one Niska had severed all those months ago, and Inara took the opportunity to flick her tongue along the still visible scar. Mal shuddered at the stimulation, the hand resting against her back pushing her hips into his and causing both of them to pant with desire. Glancing to their surroundings, Inara whispered huskily, “Mal, we can’t do this here.”

Raising his eyes to meet hers, Mal trailed a hand from her shoulder, parting her robe more in the process and revealing one of her bare breasts to him. As his hand closed over the soft flesh, his fingers rolling the already hard nipple, he slowly backed her into the nearest wall, pressing his groin against her. “We can’t?” he murmured, his lips back on hers as she shifted against him, desperate for his hard length to rub against her.

Any other protest was swallowed by his mouth as his tongue drove through, his lips and teeth sucking and nipping at hers. Inara’s hands flew to his shirt as Mal’s hand continued to work its way down her front, finding the tie of her robe and tugging on it once. The belt fell away and Inara felt a rush of cool air as her lower body was exposed. She hurriedly pulled at his buttons, desperate to feel his warm skin under her fingers.

Mal’s hands were at her waist, running up her smooth, golden skin and cupping her breasts. Kneading the flesh, Mal pulled away to look into Inara’s eyes, noting how she’d paused in her attempt to undress him, her head thrown back against the wall, a silent pant escaping her parted lips. His body was on fire for her and the sight of her skin, glistening with a light sheen of sweat, made his already tight pants decidedly uncomfortable.

Pressing his lips to her exposed neck, Mal bit down slightly and sucked, knowing he was marking her. Her hand moved back into his hair and tugged at the strands, as her other pressed against his chest, fingernails digging into his flesh. She wanted him naked, wanted to feel all of him pressing into her, but his mouth and his hands were working against her, touching her so exquisitely, she could barely think let alone move.

Reaching her shoulders, Mal pushed Inara’s robe away, the thin fabric fluttering to the ground and exposing her to him. He forced his mouth from her skin, taking a moment to regard her beautiful and naked form. His eyes raked over her chest, her breasts with their hardened nipples flushed a shade of pink. Her flat stomach curved just right, accentuating her hips and those long shapely legs.

Bothered by the absence of his touch, Inara looked to him. Her hands free, she again worked at his buttons and he brought his hands to rest at her waist while she pushed his suspenders aside and rid him of the fabric. Smooth fingers and hands caressed his flesh, running over a multitude of scars. As she pinched one nipple lightly, Mal hissed softly and Inara grinned. Leaning forward, she replaced her fingers with her teeth, biting down softly before laving the bud with her tongue. One of Mal’s hands moved to the back of her head, his fingers weaving into her dark hair, guiding her as she switched her attention to the other nipple.

Trailing a line of kisses up his chest and along his throat, Inara traced his lower lip with her tongue, delighting in the look of pure lust in Mal’s eyes. One hand on his back, she slid the other down to his pants, kneading the flesh of his backside as he took one more step forward and pressed her into the cold, hard wall of the cargo bay. The cool metal was a welcome contrast to the heat radiating off her skin and she rolled her hips against Mal’s covered erection as he pressed his palm against the small of her back, forcing them together.

He wanted her, so badly he was amazed he hadn’t dropped his pants and pounded into her. But Mal knew better, he knew, in that ridiculously puritan mind of his that once they took this step, once they crossed this intimate line, things would change forever. And he was terrified that Inara might decide to again leave – and maybe this time, not come back.

Leaning away, he trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek, smiling softly as she nuzzled her face into his hand. With a sigh of content, her large, liquid eyes fluttered open to regard him. Meeting his smile with a sweet one of her own, Inara raised herself on her tiptoes and brought her mouth to his. The kiss was slow at first, lips meeting, mouths opening, breaths mingling and then tongues battling. As the passion rose, Mal felt his resolve weakening. He should make sure she was okay with this, should demand that she promise not to leave, but he couldn’t. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

“Mal,” Inara murmured against his mouth, feeling his hesitation, no matter how minute. “Please.”

A low growl emanated in his throat at the slight plea in her voice, and Mal dropped his head back as her deft fingers worked at his belt. As she freed him, tugging and stroking his already throbbing length, Mal’s hand trailed down to her thighs, dipping between her legs. He ghosted one finger over her, feeling his blood burn with even more desire as he felt how wet she was. Bringing his thumb down and around that delicious bundle of nerves, Mal rubbed harder, a jolt of pure male pride shooting through his groin as Inara gripped his shoulders and pressed herself against his hand.

Crushing his mouth back to hers, Mal allowed the hand to slide back around to her butt, lifting her leg, bent at the knee. His other arm securely around her waist and holding her still, Mal bit down hard on her lip as she tilted her hips towards him, and he plunged his straining length into her tight heat.

Inara felt the tang of blood as Mal bit her lip just as he thrust and she didn’t care. He filled her so completely, his hot, pulsing length driving deep as he pulled out and drove into her again. She gasped against his mouth, her hands gripping tightly at his shoulders for purchase as she felt her body unraveling faster than she would have guessed possible. She never lost control during sex; it was unbecoming for a companion to appear so impassioned. But she was no longer a companion, not in Mal’s arms – she was simply Inara and Inara felt her orgasm building, felt that delicious tension winding tight so that it could snap.

Mal held her firmly, the feel of Inara’s wetness covering his cock causing him to release low groans against her skin. He was painfully aware of how exposed they were, knowing that the cargo bay was not the best place for this, but at the moment, he didn’t care. Malcolm Reynolds only cared about one thing at this moment in time and she was currently bucking against him, panting his name and clenching him so tightly he thought he might burst.

Shifting his hold slightly, Mal withdrew his nearly spent length and thrust into her with a groan, pushing deeper than before and Inara could not help the cry that escaped her lips. “Ta ma de,” she panted, squeezing her eyes shut as the first waves of ecstasy started to crest inside her.

Grunting from the exertion of one final thrust, Mal’s hot seed thundered through Inara’s sensitive core just as her own juices flooded him. Trembling and boneless, Inara collapsed against him, her forehead resting on his shoulder, her arms encircling his back and holding tight. Mal felt his knees weakening and knew he wouldn’t be able to stay on his feet. Slowly, he sank with Inara to the floor, their connection never breaking. Whimpering slightly as she settled into his lap, his buried length twitching in the new position, Inara lifted her head from his shoulder.

Sated eyes regarded her. Mal ran his hands through her hair. Inara knew she should be cold, it was always damp in the cargo bay, but resting in Mal’s arms, she could only feel warmth. It spread through every limb and imbued every muscles and Inara wondered if she would always feel this way with him.

Gently wiping his thumb along her lower lip, Mal smiled sheepishly as he noticed the cut he’d given her. “Sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, kissing it lightly.

Her fingers ghosting over a similar red mark on his neck, she merely smiled. “I think we’re even.”

***

Translations:

Liu kou shui de biao zi he hou zi de ben er zi: Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey

Ta ma de: Fuck me blind

Dancin' - Part 2 of 3.