A.N. Rated R for sexual content. Consider yourself warned twice now. Thanks to AgentOmega for the beta.

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He noticed it after the first time they had sex. He thought he’d done well. Thought he’d pleased her. She’d pleasured him beyond the ability of rational thought. But as he beamed at her across the breakfast table the next day and she smiled back winsomely, he saw disappointment behind her eyes. His pride deflated a little, knowing she had a lot of partners to compare him to. First time’s always rough. He’d do better next time. The second time, after they made love, as he held her, pretending to sleep, he felt a stray tear fall from her cheek onto his arm. Just one. No sobs or sniffles with it. He had disappointed her again and it broke his spirit. All this time he’d wanted her, and now that she let him have her, he wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t up to par. And a single tear fell down his cheek as well, caught by the pillow. Loosening his grip, Mal started to roll to the far side of the bed so his ego could wallow in solitude, but her voice stilled him. “Mal,” she called softly, a gentle, desperate plea behind the words. “Please hold me.” He could hear the tears in the way her voice quivered, and he could not help but comply. He realized that in all the times they’d been together, it was the first time she’d asked, begged even, for his touch. It was a plea born not of physical desire, but of something else entirely … Sadness? Fear? Yearning? His eyes closed to the grief between them, and he held her tight until they both fell asleep. The third time she climbed into his bunk, his ego couldn’t take it and he was in no mood for sex. He needed to talk things out with her and wasn’t sure how. He played up a recent gunshot wound on his arm so she wouldn’t engage him, but she saw right through his hesitation and it hurt her deeply. So they sat sideways on the bed, holding hands like teenagers. The conversation was awkward, distant, and provided no answers. It ended with her massaging his back – she insisted on account of his gunshot wound – and then he held her while she slept, because she asked him to. The night after, he slipped into her shuttle. They’d never slept together two days in a row before, and it surprised her. He came just after cleaning some fallen crates in the cargo bay; she was already in bed, half asleep. Mal stripped down to his boxers, lifted the covers, and crawled in next to her, not sure what he wanted. She responded with a happy groan that sent shocks through his body. Rolling over and propping herself on her elbows, she raked her hand upwards across his sternum and neck until she found his chin and pulled him into a kiss. “Couldn’t stay away?” she teased, caressing his face, then ghosting over his wounded arm. “Feeling stronger than last night?” Her fingers slid down past the waistband of his boxers, but he stayed her hand and pulled it off his body. God, this was too hard – difficult. “What do you want, Inara?” “I want you,” she answered alluringly, her hands reaching for his body again. Knowing it was an act, Mal suppressed a groan, and held her away. “No you don’t,” Mal countered, calling her bluff. The way she had bewitched his body, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open and on her. “I want…” Inara hesitated, her brow furrowing, realizing Mal wasn’t looking for a sexy, turn-on kind of answer. He was looking for the truth and she didn’t have it. “I want …” “Don’t have to be sex, ‘Nara.” Confusion raced through her eyes, followed by hurt and embarrassment. “I know I don’t please you,” he offered, his voice strained with self-disappointment. “Mal,” she began, wanting to correct him, but unable to form the lie. She had thought he would be different. She’d thought that he, because he wasn’t a client, because he was Mal, would rock her to the core and change everything she’d ever felt. But he hadn’t. Everything felt just as cold and mechanical as with her clients, and her only satisfaction was seeing the pleasure she brought to his body as he came without her. Now she saw the pain and disappointment on his face and she felt it too. “What do you want me to do?” Mal asked softly. “Right now?” “I …” Inara paused again, considering his offer. She’d thought she pleased him. Thought her act had been enough – that when she faked he believed. And she didn’t want to perform again. Not for him. Not with his eyes begging her not to. Finally she answered, “I want you to hold me.” Mal nodded, not looking half so disappointed as she thought he should, and wrapped his arms around her. Inara sank into the smoothness of his skin and the roughness of his hands. He enveloped her like a warm blanket, wrapping one of his legs around hers to keep her close. She could feel him, hard inside his boxers, and wiggled her hips playfully, feeling him twitch. “Hey, there, woman. None of that. I’m supposed to be holding you.” “I know,” she smiled, unable to keep the contentment out of her voice. The part where he held her was her favorite part of every evening they’d spent together. She took the hand that was draped over her front and traced the lines and kissed the calluses, her eyelashes fluttering over his finger tips. He moaned happily into her ear and she replaced his hand on her body, and laid down to rest in his arms. “You like being held?” Mal asked dreamily. He had to admit, the position felt so peaceful he was like to sleep just breathing in the scent of her. “I like being held by you.” Mal laughed softly and squeezed her. “Why me?” “Because no one holds me like you do. Of all the things I’ve … experienced … this is the one thing that is only you.” Mal squeezed her again, joyful contentment bubbling in his soul, finding more pleasure in that one statement than all the sex they’d had thus far. And they’d had some damn good sex, in his opinion. She must have felt him swelling, because she wiggled her hips against him again, a devious giggle escaping her lips. “Woman, if you keep doin’ that, I cannot be held responsible for how wet you become. Thought you just wanted to be held tonight.” “I do,” Inara smiled, pulling his arms more tightly around her. “I love you, Mal.” “Love you too, ‘Nara.”

*~*

The next night, Mal came in to hold her again, but she was in a mood to repay his kindness. She sat him on the bed, her hands gliding up his thighs, but he stopped her. He couldn’t believe his own insanity, because wo de ma, he wanted her so deeply. Wanted her. Not her favors. After a series of husky protests, they laid head to toe, her massaging his feet, him massaging hers. “I had a client with a foot fetish once,” Inara chuckled, then caught herself. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t run through past clients with Mal. Looking uneasily at his face, she saw that he was merely nodding, and thoughtfully considering her foot. “So he sexed your foot?” Mal asked, testing her serenely manicured toes in his mouth, at which she barely squirmed. She brushed the ball of her foot playfully against the stubble on his cheek. “Oh, he and my foot had a marvelous time. It was one of the most … unique experiences I’ve had.” “What can I do to your foot that’s different?” Mal asked, bracing her foot against his shoulder and rubbing her calf. “Shen me?” “What can I do that’s only me?” Inara tickled his toes, making him writhe as she pondered, but shrugged her shoulders when she came up empty. “Does it matter?” Mal stopped moving and considered Inara incredulously. She felt herself blush, and started paying extreme attention to massaging his ankle. “Inara, when we’re having sex, what are you thinking?” “I’m thinking … that I want to please you. I want you to enjoy it. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be thinking?” Mal chuckled. “Guess I had hoped I could sex the thinking right out of you.” “Did you not enjoy it?” “Oh, ‘Nara, I enjoyed it plenty. You certainly sexed the thinking right out of me.” She smiled, pleased with herself. “But when I touch you, I don’t want you to be so concerned about returning the favor. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice when you do… but all I want you to think is ‘Is this good? Do I want more?’” “Is this good? Do I want more?” she repeated uncertainly, as if it were a lesson. “Mal, what you were doing was … good.” Mal chuckled softly, unconvinced. She wasn’t getting it yet. Slowly, he turned his head and kissed her ankle, swirling his tongue a moment, then suckling sweetly. Inara smiled as she watched him, and shivered when he stopped. “Did you like that?” he asked. “I did.” “I don't believe you.” “Mal,” she whined, rolling her eyes in frustration. “I want you to be honest with me.” “I am being honest. It was nice. I … want more.” “Nice,” he repeated, his tone clipped. Inara groaned, rubbing her forehead with two fingers. “But not sensational?” With a sigh of consideration for his ego, Inara gave into honesty and shook her head in defeat. “And most definitely not new.” “Mal, there’s very little point in –” She paused curiously as he lifted her foot again, turning it in his hand like a strange treasure, poking and prodding, and occasionally kissing. Every now and then he would question again, pushing until he got an honest answer from her. She suppressed a giggle as he explored the particularly ticklish skin of her instep. Perhaps the sensations would never be new, but the exploration was entertaining. When he slowed his ministrations, Inara bit her lip, inquisitively meeting his eye, wondering what he might try next. He returned a devilish grin. “Do you want more?”

*~*

It took six months of slow exploration before he found the way back to her core. Six months of journeys, questions, and discovery before he found the path inside her that no man had walked before. Inara was floored by the patience he had. She’d known men, many men, all with one desire, never able to hold out for more than a few hours when in her presence. Mal had held out on himself for six months as he patiently found his way into her. Coming to her shuttle every day, trying to discover something new, playfully remembering the paths he’d already discovered. She had to be patient as well. To be honest. To let him know what was nice, what was sensational, and what was only him. He liked hearing the last one the most. “Only you.” … And he could tell if she lied about it. That evening, as he nibbled playfully at her ear, she focused her mind on discerning the nature of the sensation it caused. He’d asked. He wanted to know. She reached a hand between them, stroking his length delicately, until Mal found a sweet spot that sent shivers through her spine. As a gleeful squeak escaped her, she squeezed him a little harder than she’d intended, and he cried out. “Sorry.” “Did I find something new?” “Perhaps,” she teased, coyly, turning over and letting him follow. “Well, hold still, let me find it again.” Inara rolled playfully out of reach and Mal wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to him, and kissing her neck. It had taken a long while to reclaim that neck from her profession and to take the feeling from nice to sensational. It would never be her favorite way that he touched her, but it always managed to incapacitate her just enough. Mal grabbed her lips in his to keep her from moving again, then pressed her onto her back, bracing her arms over her head. He found the spot, just on the top and inside of her ear, his tongue flicking playfully against her skin, and she squeaked again, her face flushing at the embarrassing sound. The pleasure that coursed through her doubled on seeing his. He moved from her ear to her wrist, planting an excruciatingly slow trail of kisses up her arm. This was the path he took to her breasts. At first, she’d needed the slow build of anticipation and the soft shivers of wet skin on the cold air. But as he paused torturously at her elbow and nuzzled, Inara could take no more and she wrapped her arm around his head, forcing him to her chest. He complied with one slow, tantalizing kiss, then pulled away again. “Excuse me,” he chided firmly, replacing her arm over her head and starting again at her wrist, moving even slower. “It took me a long time to find this path, and I like to take it leisure-like so I can enjoy the view.” Inara laughed pleadingly, closing her eyes, letting the journey proceed. She could feel the fire in her belly like never before. It was all she could do to breathe, panting eagerly as he made his way up her arm, past her elbow, then her shoulder. “Mal,” she gulped, pleasure consuming her. “I want you inside me.” “That so?” He’d said it slowly, swallowing thickly, but couldn’t mask the surprise in his response. Taken aback, he’d drawn his mouth away from her and she responded with a beseeching whimper. She could see him swelling with pride and desire, but it was the first time she’d ever made that request of him. First time ever, and he wanted to be sure she meant it. And Inara knew she meant it like never before. Her desire was for him. Only him. Not just to please him, but to have him. Words failing her, she panted the only response she had breath for. “Yes.” She nearly cried as he slid into her, feeling new like sex never had before. This was what she had desired from the start. What she knew only he could bring out in her. She could tell he felt the difference, if only by the words he whispered in her ear. Inara reveled as he moved inside of her. It wasn’t mechanical. It wasn’t a favor. It wasn’t a search for the passion she thought should be there. Because he’d been patient, because he’d found a new way in. A path that no man had ever taken before. She’d nearly come at the thought of him, and she knew now, she’d never be the same. She came just a fraction of a moment after him, howling her release into his shoulder, biting down so hard, she drew blood. Afterwards, she kissed the wound clean and he licked the blood from her lips, before falling hard against the pillow, exhaustion consuming him. “Sorry,” she whispered, finding a tissue when the bleeding didn’t dry up quickly. She hadn’t meant to bite him so deeply – but then, she’d never felt anyone so deeply consume her. Inara fingered the wound and he winced. “May need more than a tissue.” Mal pulled her face to him, determined to suck the worry right out of her lips. “You do this for all your clients?” he joked. Inara patted the wound gently, then traced his jaw with her finger. “Only you.”

*~*