I’m gonna go with NC-17 on this one. Twice warned, no complaining. Thanks to AgentOmega for the beta.

---

Inara washed her face, considering herself in the mirror, running her finger across the apple of her cheek. She was amused to catch herself counting her freckles, the way Mal had the first time he’d seen them. He loved them and she loved that he loved them, though she still kept them covered on a daily basis. Inara bit her lip, stopping the silly counting, and reached for the compact of concealer. She looked at the beige powder, then back at her husband. Just back from a job, he’d been so exhausted, he’d fallen asleep fully clothed, and was still sprawled on top of the covers. He looked so rugged and handsome in that blue, button-down shirt, which would have captured and enhanced the color of his eyes had they been open. Instinctively, she touched her silk-clad skin, remembering the feel of the soft cotton the morning she’d put on his shirt. She’d promised him at the time that she’d put it on again when he had healed. A few times since, she had remembered the promise and tried pulling on the shirt, but each time he had stopped her, saying only ‘no pretending.’ And though she’d never promised that she’d let him see the freckles again, now as she looked, it seemed unnatural to wear the shirt any other way. Setting the compact on the vanity unused, she determined that today was the day she’d feel that soft cotton on her skin again, embracing her shoulders. As gentle as the breeze, she glided to the bed, feeling free and wickedly playful. Climbing delicately over him, she began unbuttoning the shirt slowly, enjoying the contented moan that fell out of Mal even as he slept. His body lifted instinctively as she tugged the bottom of the shirt where it had been tucked in. After so many years, he’d grown accustomed to her redressing him in his sleep, and he just kept his eyes closed and enjoyed being pampered. She hoped he didn’t change today, as she wanted this to be a surprise. Pressing his face to her silk and lace robe, she lifted his torso just enough to slide the shirt off, and she examined him carefully before laying him back down. A few fresh bruises here and there, but otherwise whole. With a smile, she laid him on the pillow and chuckled, seeing his lips puckered. That was usually when she kissed him in the redresssing process. The shirt retrieved, Inara shrugged out of her robe and slipped into the worn, warm garment. Oh, it felt like home and heaven and Mal all rolled into one. She took a moment, to run her hands over her enrobed body, reveling the intimacy of the shared article. Oh, she could come right now, but then Mal would feel the wetness and it’d spoil the surprise. With impish excitement, she leaned forward, her raven-black hair falling like a curtain around her face, and she kissed Mal’s waiting lips. He moaned sleepily and happily, opening his mouth to taste her, and as soon as he did, his eyes shot open. Pausing in surprise, Inara covered his face with butterfly kisses, soft lashes intimately toying with his skin. Mal brought both hands up to cup her chin, then pulled her away to admire her, his fingers ghosting over her cheeks. “I knew those freckles tasted different.” “Good?” “That,” he answered softly, kissing her cheeks and her eyelids, “requires further scrutiny.” Her fingernails grazed his torso, sending shivers through his body and his hands danced through her hair, too intrigued to stray far from her face. When they did wander, he found the blue cotton shirt and laughed with delight. “Wasn’t I just wearin’ that?” “You said I could borrow it.” “But I was just in it,” Mal protested jokingly, undoing the buttons. “You said any time.” Tossing her onto her back and straddling himself on top, Mal unbuttoned the shirt, his hands plundering her body, squeezing and teasing, but his mouth was transfixed on her face. His tongue ran across her rouge-free lips, his stubble scratching across her cheeks. She bent her knees, pressing her bare thigh against his clothed ones, and a deep-throated groan escaped him. Once unbuttoned, Mal started to slide the shirt off her shoulders, kissing his way down her neck and collar bone. Inara sighed and arched upward, pushing her breasts to his lips, letting him suckle and swirl his tongue. Mal pulled back, gazing at her face and body laid bare before him, then with a devious smirk, he pulled the blue shirt back onto her shoulders and closed the two middle buttons. “Why is it you’re more turned on seeing me in this shirt than out of it?” Mal’s hands raked over the front of her covered torso. “I’ve seen you naked a thousand times. But I’ve seen you in this shirt exactly twice.” “Does this shirt make me look naked?” Inara teased, cupping her breasts through the fabric. Mal smiled, running his hands past hers, snaking around the inside of the collar, and coming back to cradle her face warmly. “Make love to me, Mal,” she moaned breathily, arching into him. “Not yet.” “What?” “Not ‘til I finish counting these freckles.” Giggling, Inara ghosted her hands down his naked torso, reaching for his pants, but he stopped her, bracing her hands over her head while he studied her face. Though she adored the way he gazed at her, she couldn’t stand the unrequited fire burning through her belly. Deviously, she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed skin, watching his mouth move in deliberate counting. She would make this as hard on him as possible. After what seemed like an eternity, Mal gasped and released her arms. Inara licked her lips and pushed him easily onto his back, sitting over him. “How many?” “Forty-seven.” Inara pulled away, making sure the shirt fell open just enough for Mal to see her breasts, and went to the task of undressing his lower half, wickedly deciding she’d be as torturously slow to him as he had been in counting. She started by pulling off his boots and socks, releasing the unceremonious odor of dried sweat and rain water. Patiently, Inara filled a basin of water and cleaned his feet, leaning in to tickle his ankles with her eyelashes. “Beautiful Inara,” he breathed, sitting up and taking her hands, kissing her palms one at a time. “My forever love.” She pressed him onto his back again, flitting her eyelashes across his cheek, planting a slow stream of kisses down the centerline of his body as her fingers worked torturously against the buttons of his pants, pressed so tightly around his swollen parts that he groaned with every pressure point. He arched his hips as she slowly pulled the trousers down his legs, leaving an imprint of butterfly kisses as her soft lashes tickled the hair of his legs. Once she got to his feet, she discarded the garment, tickled his cleaned toes, and worked her way up the opposite leg. Those soft, unmasked lashes were agony against his skin, shooting fire through his body and he feared he’d lose control. Inara stopped at his knee, snaking her tongue to tickle the back of it, then continuing up until she reached the tip of his length, taking him wholly in her mouth and swirling her tongue around him. Bucking and crying out, Mal yanked her hair, beginning her languorous journey back up his torso, but she left a hand behind to stroke and tease him. Mal’s hand clamped down to stop her, his entire body convulsing. “Woman, I ain’t comin’ without you.” “Then catch me up.” Grinning at the challenge, Mal flipped her over and swung himself on top to press against her. Normally, he was more creative with his positions, but today, he wanted to emboss that shirt onto her body and taste the make-up-free skin of her face. He could feel the slickness of her thighs already and slid sweetly into her. She didn’t need catching up. “First one,” he grunted, thrusting into her exactly once, watching her come immediately with a soft, low-intensity release. Once he’d learned the tricks, he found it so easy to get a release out of Inara and could usually get two or three good orgasms through her before the coup de grace where they came together. One night, he’d managed to get five from her in the space of an hour, but today he was already so tight and hard, he wasn’t aiming for any records. Mal forced himself to keep his eyes open as everything seemed new. The cuff of his own sleeve against his shoulder; the tug of the shirt hem where their two bodies fused into one. The way her cheeks flushed from peach to crimson in uneven splotches, the color extending from the base of her neck to the tip of her hairline. The way her forty-seven freckles stood out deep brown against the flushed skin. He watched the familiar ripples roll through her body harder and faster as she got close. “Mal,” she panted, throatily. “Not yet.” How long could he make this last? Perhaps he should let her come now, just so he could watch her come again. But then, she wasn’t waiting. Inara grabbed his face, pulled him close, and batted those sinfully soft eyelashes against the stubble of his jaw line. Time lost meaning and Mal lost control. The world turned to stars as he spilled into her and collapsed, feeling her body trembling beneath him as she came screaming his name. Inara was still trembling when his eyes found the strength to process light again and he realized his full weight was on her. He’d closed his eyes. He’d missed it. If he wanted to see her ecstasy splay across those freckled cheeks, he’d have to try again – a plan he wasn’t altogether opposed to. Carefully, Mal shifted his weight to his elbows, smiling as Inara continued murmuring his name, riding out the aftershock of her release. Staying locked as one, he rolled her toward the drier part of the bed, her body covering him like a blanket. The blue shirt was completely soaked with sweat and sex and when it hit the cool air, Inara shivered. Gently, he tugged it free of their heat-fused skin and pulled the sheet over the both of them. “Mal,” she breathed his name over and over, until finally, with a contented sigh, she rested her chin on his chest and opened her eyes. He brushed the hair back from her face, watching her cheeks fade back to peach and the contrast of the forty-seven freckles diminish. “Now that was fun,” Mal told her, feeling himself twitch anew as she clenched her muscles around him. Inara shrugged teasingly, her long hair tickling his chest. “I’ve had better.” “Oh yeah,” he challenged, lifting his head and nipping at her nose, tickling her sides. “You think so?” “Prove me wrong.” Mal thought a moment, though he got distracted when she clenched around his length again. His recovery time was slower than it used to be, but he’d come again. In remembering his current exhaustion, he had his answer. “Because it’s my name on those rosy, pink lips. It’s my name you cry out when the rapture drives you senseless.” “You do get points for originality.” “I try,” he smiled, reliving the chorus of her voice singing his name. His brow suddenly quirked. “How come you don’t have pet names for me?” “I do… sometimes.” “Not when we’re making love.” “I don’t like to forget who I’m with,” she answered simply, tracing her finger lazily around his chest. Mal smiled, then frowned, then found some medium expression between the two. “S’pose that used to be a problem.” Inara looked up at him with big, brown, innocent eyes. “Not really.” “Did you ever get your clients names confused?” Inara shook her head. “I never called them by name.” “How’d you manage that?” “Pet names,” Inara answered, lifting her tired eyes to look into his, kissing his lips gently. “I never want to say those names again. Only yours.” Mal could feel himself hardening inside her and she encouraged him, lifting off slightly, then sliding back to the hilt. Though it seemed strange retrospectively for them to talk about her past clients, Mal found it always helped him to know more, so he knew how best to please her. “Did it bother you – them sayin’ your name?” “They didn’t say my name,” she said softly, ducking her head as if sharing some long-kept secret. “They called you ‘Freckles’?” he teased and she swatted him. “No, and you’d better not either or you will never see them again.” Mal laughed, hugging her close, calling her ‘beautiful wife,’ letting the mirth spill between them. “So what did they say? Or did they say anything?” “They… said Inara.” “But…” Mal started, lifting her head, looking into those soft, unmasked brown eyes. “Whoa, you tellin’ me Inara ain’t your real name?” “It is,” she answered smoothly. “But it wasn’t always.” “‘Nara, who are you?” “I’m your wife.” “But I –” “I’m your wife.” “Okay, wife,” he conceded, resting her head on his chest again, his hand brushing through her hair. “I love you… whatever your name.” “Inara,” she insisted. “And I love you.” Mal made love to her four more times before he was spent beyond the ability to stay awake. He cradled his wife in his arms, his body shivering every time those soft lashes blinked against his chest, his hands draped heavily through her hair. “What’s your real name?” he asked her. “One mystery for now,” she answered. “‘Nara,” he whispered, prompting with his voice. He felt her lips curl into a smile against his skin, and those brown eyes lifted to look at him again. Biting his finger as he ghosted over her lip, she said firmly, “Today I let you count my freckles.” With that, she rested her head on his shoulder and fell fast asleep. Too satisfied to be disappointed, Mal pulled a blanket over them as their bodies began to cool and before he drifted off as well, he kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well, Mrs. Reynolds.”

*~*

You asked for a name... Broken By a Name