She was beautiful. God, so gorram beautiful, even with his child inside her. Or maybe especially so. Mal stared at her as she moved around the bedroom, closing the curtains against the cold night air, picking up her robe from the bed and tossing it onto the chair. Leaning on the mantle over the fireplace, she used the poker to encourage the logs into more flame …

She gasped slightly as his arms went around her waist, pulling her back into him. She could feel his body all down her back, his arousal pressing into her buttocks. One hand held her belly, caressing her, while the other moved up to her breast, squeezing. She gasped again, but this time with pain.

He stopped moving immediately, knowing the difference. “Frey?”

“No, it’s all right.” She straightened up and turned to look at him. “My breasts … they’re tender.”

“This little one?” He touched her stomach.

“Mmn. I don’t know why – I mean, I didn’t get this with Ethan – but they’re so tight.” She shrugged. “They just hurt.”

“Oh, honey.” He leaned forward to kiss her, just ghosting his lips over hers. “Does that mean you don’t want to –“ he breathed into her mouth.

“Malcolm Reynolds.” She pulled back so she could look into his blue eyes. “Don’t you dare say things like that.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll be careful.” His voice had already deepened. “Only, not sure I could keep my hands off you even if you’d said you didn’t want to.” He realised what he’d said. “Not that I’d … I mean, I’d try my best to persuade you -”

Her own hands ran up his chest, touching his face before clasping behind his neck. “I want to. So badly.”

“Won’t hurt you, xin gan,” he promised. He began undoing the buttons on her shirt.

“No,” she said, staying his hands. “Let me.” She pushed him back into the chair, and began to peel her clothes from her skin.

Watching the impromptu strip, he could feel his body tightening, his erection thrusting painfully at his pants. By the time she stood naked in front of him, unashamed, displaying herself for her husband, he could hardly breathe.

She smiled. “Your turn.”

“What?” He stared. “No. No way.”

“I did.” She leaned over him, her hands on the arms of the chair, her breasts tantalisingly close, fuller than he‘d ever seen them. “Why, would you like some music?”

He laughed, and saw her nipples tighten from his breath. Hey, that was an idea. “No, thanks. I think I can manage without.” He stood up, brushing against her. “You’re shameless, you know that, don’t you?”

She sat down in the still warm seat, crossing her legs demurely, looking for all the world like an angel caught out in a misdemeanour. A very pregnant misdemeanour. “I can live with that. Come on.”

Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Mal stepped back and began to undress. Still, the look on her face was intent, and as he stripped the shirt from his back and kicked off his boots, she was looking more and more flushed. It spread across her body and up her neck, reaching her cheeks as he stepped out of his undershorts and was revealed in all his glory.

She stood up, crossing the short distance to him, pressing her belly against him. “You are beautiful,” she murmured.

“Hey, that’s my line!” he protested, feeling the blood pumping through him.

“Make love to me.”

His lips curved. “Now that’s the kind of order I don’t mind taking.”

He steered her to the bed, laying her back on it. He lifted her head, slipping a pillow beneath it, making sure she was comfortable, all the while aware of his body engorging, alive with the thought that she was here, just inches from him, waiting, wanting, needing him.

Time to try out his idea. Leaning forward, he touched her nipple with his tongue. Not pressing, just touching, making it wet. Then he breathed. She shuddered, a sharp sound issuing from her lips as the feeling went straight to her groin. He did it again. And again, until her nipple was standing hard and proud. He smiled. Maybe he should do the other one too. Not right to leave it in the cold.

“Mal …” she moaned, feeling the heat flash through her.

Oh, this was good. Just being able to make her tremble like that, knowing the desire was building in her … Blowing across her breasts once more, he reached down, grazing her belly, and pressed just the tips of his fingers up into her heat. He stroked the knot of nerves and heard the small mew of pleasure escape her lips, even as her back arched a little, thrusting their child up between them.

“Ai ren …” He was asking her forgiveness. As much as he wanted to pleasure her, prove to her how much he loved her, he knew he couldn‘t. “Won’t be able to hold on, ai ren,” he whispered. “Take my time later, but having you here, with me …”

She looked at him, understanding on her face. Smiling, she pulled him between her thighs, wrapping her ankles around his hips, drawing him into her. Careful to take his weight on his hands either side of her waist, he groaned as he sank deep, feeling her surrounding him, hot and tight, wet and wonderful. He began to move slowly, trying to keep from plunging madly, but every steady thrust took him closer to the edge. She moaned again, a breathy sound that wrapped itself up his spine and around his heart.

“Mal … more,” she whispered.

“Frey, I’m …” He stopped, looking down at her, her skin wet with perspiration, her swollen belly almost like a barrier …

She understood. Pressing him back until he slid out of her, she moved to one side, giving him room to sit down next to her. Then, a sweet smile on her lips, she straddled him. Reaching down, she took him in her hand, feeling him slick with her own juices, and guided him back inside her.

Now she was in control, raising and lowering herself on him, taking her time, making him wait while she drew out his pleasure, her eyes never leaving his. His hands ran up and down her sides, feeling the sweat on her skin, holding her waist and knowing her tattoo was burning. At last her movements became more erratic, and each thrust down onto him pushed him ever deeper inside her. Her breath was coming in pants, and he knew she was nearly there, only holding back because her eyes were open.

“Frey, my xin gan,” he murmured, his voice vibrating through her. “It’s okay. You can close your eyes.”

It was all she needed. Her eyes slamming shut, she raised herself once more on him, then dropped, her climax shuddering through her. It burst on him, and he thrust up into her, the roaring in his ears drowning out everything except the fact that she was here with him, and he was spilling into her …

The sounds of their breathing calmed a little, and they were still.

She didn’t want to move. So close, feeling their sweat pooling where they touched, his body softening inside her, she couldn’t think of a moment more sensual, more complete than this very second.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes scanning her face, taking in the tenderness in her eyes, and his words made it perfect.

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning forwards to touch his lips with hers. Then she laughed.

“Hope that ain't at my lack of technique back there,” he admonished gently. “It’s been near two months, and I … well, I ain't even had you to sleep next to.”

“No. That was …” She shivered in remembered delight.

“Then what’s aroused your humour?” he asked, cupping her right breast gently, just feeling the weight in his hand as he lifted it, placing a gentle kiss on her nipple.

“I just …” She looked down. “I just became very aware of our daughter.”

Mal followed her gaze, seeing the swell of his wife’s belly pressed tightly into him. “I don’t mind,” he said softly. “In fact, I like it.” He stroked the smooth skin. “Almost makes me feel like I'm pregnant.”

“I don’t mind if you want to be,” she said, running the fingertips of her right hand up his chest, just touching his nipple. It sent sparks through him, but right that moment he knew his body wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

“You’d like me to be pregnant?” he asked, his hands on her hips.

“I'm sure men have no idea what it’s really like. The back-ache, the way your centre of gravity changes, the throwing up –“

“Frey, I’d take all that on in a heartbeat.”

“So I can tell Simon you’re next?” She giggled, something she did so rarely. “I'm sure he can arrange it.”

He leaned back and pushed out his stomach. “You wanna see me like this?”

She patted him. “Might be fun.”

He let his muscles pull him back flat. “Might at that.” He moved slightly under her, easing a growing knot in his thighs.

“I'm too heavy for you,” she said.

“No, you ain't.”

“I know I am.” She sighed. “But I don’t want to move.”

“Then don’t. Though I’d like to get some feeling back into my legs at some point.”

She hit him lightly on the chest and lifted herself up, feeling him slip from her. Lifting her leg over him, she said, “Move.”

He smiled, scooting down the bed so that he was lying flat, and she settled into her usual position. Now he felt complete, her head in the crook of his shoulder, her arm across him. She snuggled down, and he held her close, supporting the weight of her belly on his hip. The smile widened into a grin. He had his wife back.

---

He must have dozed, because he suddenly became aware he was alone in the bed, and that she wasn’t next to him. Hoping it wasn’t just a dream, he looked around for her. No, definitely alone, although the pleasant heaviness in his groin suggested at least some of it had been real. He smiled slightly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Frey?” he called softly, a cold draught playing across his bare chest. The window onto the verandah was open. Standing up he crossed the room, seeing his wife outside, shivering in her thin robe.

“What’re you doing out here?” Mal asked, closing the gap until he stood against her back, feeling the soft caress of faint rain on his naked skin. “You’ll catch cold, and then what’ll we do?”

“Needed …” She didn’t finish, just hugged herself.

“Needed what?”

“To cry.”

“What?” He stepped in front of her, concerned immediately. “Why?”

“I can’t do this again, Mal. I won’t.”

His heart contracted. “Do what?”

“You going off like this, putting yourself in the way of something, and me not being there to …”

“Smash a chair on someone’s head?”

“Yes.” She covered her face with her hands, her body shaking.

“Frey … Oh, Frey, don’t.” He pulled her into him, feeling every curve of her body through the wet robe, her breasts, her belly, her hips, moulding to him as much as possible. He felt himself react again, as he always did, but this time kept his mind on the problem in front of him. “Frey, don’t do this.”

She lowered her hands, held onto him. “Mal, next time I tell you to leave me behind … hit me over the head with a chair, will you? Or get Simon to dope me or something.”

He tried not to grin, relief flooding through him. “You give me permission?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, honey. I thought you were about to tell me you were leaving me for good.”

“That’s the thing,” she said seriously. “I can’t.”

“Would you want to?”

“We’re one, Mal. It’s like we make a whole person, and I’ve never felt like … and knowing I couldn’t …” She moved back enough to look into his eyes. “It scares me sometimes, but I’m more afraid of not being with you.”

“Frey …” He stroked her cheek, feeling the hot tears among the cold rain. “You’re my wife. You think I’d have just anyone take up that position?”

“You had Saffron,” she pointed out.

“That was … not my fault.” He dropped his head. “Come on. I’m getting cold, even if you aren’t. I’m kinda naked here, you know. I know you don’t worry, but I got a reputation to think on.”

She smiled shakily. “Then we’d better go indoors.” She let him lead her inside, closing the window firmly behind them and making her sit down in front of the fireplace while he broke the embers, sending warming flames up the chimney.

“You know,” he said, feeling the welcome heat, “all this is kinda moot anyway. ‘Bout seven weeks ago I came to the conclusion this wasn’t gonna happen again, so you really don’t need to worry.” He turned back towards her. “Ain’t never leaving you behind no more.”

“Even when I’m stupid and tell you to?”

He went down onto his heels in front of her, a most undignified position for a naked man, but he didn’t care. “Even then.”

“Chair over the head?”

“I’m more civilised. I’ll take you up on the permission for Simon to dope you.”

She touched his cheek. “Good.”

“Now, how about a bath to warm you up?” For some reason Freya laughed, it turning into a sort of hiccupping giggle, and he glared at her. “I suggest a nice hot bath, and you laugh at me?”

“Not you, no,” Freya assured him. “But I do have a small tale to tell …”

“Well, I’ve a notion that’s gonna have to wait.” He leaned forward, pulling her to the edge of the chair. Slowly undoing the tie around what used to be her waist, he peeled the fabric from her skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you mentioned a bath?”

“Changed my mind,” he said, moving her thighs apart. “Got another way to warm you up first …” He buried his face in her, and she lay back, her fingers entwined in his hair.

“Mal ..” she moaned, her eyes closing, just concentrating on the feeling of his tongue, his lips, surrendering to him.