A.N. Comes after "Sneaking into the Captain's Bunk", "Sneaking into the Companion's Shuttle", and "Don't Be Afraid."

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The ship's air was a warm, summer breeze around them and they were floating as much as they were walking. Her fragrance filled the hall like a flower garden, her smile the glow of sunshine. Mal kissed her hand and bowed, guiding her to the ladder of his open bunk, but his heart sank as her head disappeared below deck. Although he knew Inara had crept into his bunk a dozen times before, he suddenly felt embarrassed by the cramped space. He always kept it clean, kept the bed made; but it was a small bed and he had no fresh linens to put on it. And it seemed a crime for those sheets touch her angel-soft skin. Mal climbed down behind her and looked nervously at her, but she wasn’t surveying the room with a critical eye. She was surveying him. Sizing him up. Self-consciously, he clung to the ladder, trying to hide himself with those tiny rungs. He’d begged her not to leave, but now he was the one who wanted to run away. Cautiously, he came around her, wondering if any amount of turning down of the linens would make the bed more appealing. Inara was talking to him, her voice winsome and light. She was laughing because Kaylee had seen them holding hands on the catwalk. Mal wondered if the two ladies would meet up tomorrow and gossip about him. What did Inara expect tonight? What was he ready to give? She was between him and the open hatch and he suddenly felt trapped. Her hand brushed his arm; was it just to keep him from stepping on her as she crossed the confined space? Just a brief touch, and her smooth fingernails tickled his skin maddeningly. She sat lightly on the bed, back against the wall, legs folded, and pulled the pillow onto her lap. He’d seen her adopt that same casual position on the sofa in her shuttle a million times. She was inviting him to talk, telling him to relax… using her wiles. Ta ma de, anything but that! He sat down in the chair opposite the bed and raked his hands through his hair, elbows on his knees. She was falling into the comfort zone of her profession, not his presence. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall into a part and play games with him. “Mal,” she inquired lightly, leaning forward and batting him with the pillow so she wouldn’t have to move to reach him. “Don’t be afraid.” She said it with a winsome laugh, probably not even realizing she was doing it. He searched her eyes, but the professional demeanor had appeared, and she meant to seduce him. No, ‘Nara, no! “‘Nara, don’t play games with me,” he begged, his heart going in a million different directions. How he longed to be seduced by her! Longed to and refused to be! But his words were like sour wine and stale protein. Crestfallen, she leaned against the wall again, hugging her pillow. He could tell she was fighting every instinct she’d developed over years of training, because she understood his request. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and when she opened them again, he feared he’d fall into them. There was new, unmistakable depth. He was seeing right through her eyes to the core of her, and she was letting him see. “I just want to talk to you, Mal.” Her eyes were searching him for something he didn’t know how to give. “What do you want?” Mal stood abruptly, feeling the weariness of the past month on his body, last night’s peaceful slumber with Inara a fading memory. The question was simple enough, but the answer was not. What did he want? To sleep? To talk? To hold her? To love her? To feel her next to him? To take it fast? To take it slow? What?! “Do you want me to leave?” she offered. He turned sharply, seeing her sitting straighter on the bed, all innocence and fear. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted her to stay, he just wanted to feel ready. He felt trapped – like they’d lost the ability to talk freely and were confined to meaningless rituals. Rituals with no truth in them, only games. But then, it was only a game if they went to fast. When he held her hand or shared a timid kiss in the hallway, those moments he felt protected by the ritual. Like those things were reigning him in, helping him slowly build something that would last forever. He dared not move too fast. Or too slow. He wanted to move at a truthsome pace, he just had no idea what it was. And still he failed to speak. Mal watched as the unfocused fear in her eyes resolved into rejection and his heart twisted, despairingly. She shouldn’t be sitting on those old, used sheets. He shouldn’t be touching her with grimy hands. His tongue loosened as she scooted toward the edge of the bed. “No, ‘Nara, don’t go,” he begged, stepping awkwardly toward her. “I…” He needed to feel ready. His eyes fell on the drawer that hid the sink. “Do you mind if I wash up a bit?” Inara brought her fingers to her lips, stifling a laugh, as if Mal had just revealed something embarrassing. With a wave, she gave him permission, hugging the pillow, and beginning a story about the months she’d spent away at the Training House. The sound of her voice, so calm and open, freed him to move. He changed quickly into loose sweat pants, and washed his face and hair in the sink. He scrubbed his fingers and hands until the oil and grime of the day had worn off. He was starting to feel clean and relaxed. A little less offensive. A little less trapped. After all, he could leave whenever he wanted. He could sleep wherever he chose. It was his boat. Shaking the water from his hair like a puppy, Mal plopped on the bed next to Inara, bumping her shoulder against his, playfully. Then he swung his legs up on the bed and lay down so his head rested on that pillow in her lap. She was laughing at him again, gazing into his eyes, and he felt he was swimming in her mirth. Her fingers played through his hair and he told her stories of what she missed while she was away. For hours, they talked, slowly passing the night away. She was singing when he first drifted off. Or perhaps she was talking about music. It was hard to tell. Her voice harmonized with Serenity’s engine and the world was fuzzy with her fragrance. Her voice eventually faded and she gently slipped out from under him, leaving only the pillow. He wanted to roll onto his side and make room for her on the bed, but his body was too tired and he feared she wouldn’t be joining him anyway. Otherwise, she’d have laid down long ago. This evening, she would pull a blanket over him, kiss his cheek, and say good night. That was the dance between them. That’s how it needed to be. So he figured he’d feign sleep, giving her freedom to leave, waiting for her to touch him one last time. He felt her leg fold on the edge of the bed, her hip near his, and he shifted minutely to give her room. Her soft, delicate fingers fell on his chest, seeking balance as she leaned toward his face. Should he pretend to stir? Was he perhaps already stirring form a dream? The tips of her hair tickled his skin. Slowly, her full weight fell on his body, blanketing him. A laugh stirred inside of him as he realized she’d chosen to sleep on top of him since he hadn’t made space for her beside him. A smile surfaced on his lips as her legs fell between his and her hand reached awkwardly for the blanket. Mal shifted again, letting her mold onto him, finding the blanket and pulling it to their shoulders. Was that her sighing or him? Her lips found his, her tongue tracing his mouth seeking entrance. He opened, awakened and energized, pulling her more tightly against him, but just as quickly turned away. Between the soft ministrations of her tongue and her body prostrate on his, he worried he’d become too aroused and he knew that neither of them were ready for that step. She laughed devilishly, but didn’t persist. Content with the moment they’d shared, she settled into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers lightly grazing his chest. Even that sent shivers through him. He soaked her into himself, wondering if forever could exist in such a short moment. “‘Nara,” he said, his voice muffled by sleep and pleasure. He’d never had a blanket so warm as her. “Am I hurting you?” Suddenly, her weight lifted off him, shifted to some unknown location – a tactic achieved only by Companions. The question surprised him, but forced him to take stock as the cool air raced between them. He’d hardly noticed the pressure she’d been putting on his wounds; they were forgotten as though her touch were a healing balm. Mal laughed, squeezing her against him, wiggling under his Inara-blanket. “Don’t put words in my mouth, darlin’,” he chided, tipping forward to kiss her nose. “I just wanted to say…” Mal hesitated. Should he say it? Would she run screaming if he did? It was a gamble, but she had a right to know, seeing as he’d asked her to stay. Plus, as he looked at her through heavy lids, her chin resting on his chest, her deep, brown eyes waiting, he became powerless. He sighed, enveloped by her beauty and warmth. “What do you want to say, Mal?” she asked softly, sensing rightly that he was drifting off again. “I love you.” “Oh,” she sang, all smiles, sliding up his body and planting the softest of angel kisses on his lips. He didn’t expect her to return the endearment and was glad she hadn’t said it immediately out of compulsion. Glad, also, that she hadn’t run screaming, flushed awkwardly, or even look taken aback. She returned her head to his chest and he could feel her cheeks moving, alternately smiling and frowning, her lashes tickling as she blinked occasionally. He’d give anything to be inside her head right now. Hopefully his simple words wouldn’t keep her up all night. He was falling asleep again. Did he have energy to move? Her weight was on his right arm, so he lifted his left, stroking the length of her back. “I love –” she began, but Mal quickly pressed a finger to her lips. She was trying to force it. He wouldn’t let her. The tension left her body and her hands fell on his, freeing her mouth to speak again. But he knew she understood. “I love how you hold me,” she whispered sincerely and Mal sighed, content again to hold her tight. A small step to the ‘verse, but a huge step for them. That, at least, was the truth. * * *~*

And more story at: Not Today