Series: Trade off: part 1/3 Pairing: Mal/Simon Warnings: fantasizing, smut, spanking, slash

Thanks to Vae for the great beta.

Simon took a careful look around the room, trying to keep his assessment subtle as his eyes took in every detail. Polished wooden flooring and tasteful seating, not so close as to enforce intimacy, giving enough privacy and respectful space between each person, old fashioned tastes in décor which contrasted with the sleazy interior Simon had pictured when he first contemplated visiting the House. The House, innocuous name that held a wealth of meaning in all circles. Impressive in its refusal to discriminate, affordable by all, tastes merely modified or compromise made when the benefits outweighed lack of funds. It guarded its patrons safety and privacy almost religiously, which made it all the more tempting to Simon.

He shifted slightly, glancing around at the other people in the waiting room, trying to decide what each one was there for. He could quite easily scrape the hulking, glowering male in the corner and the delicate looking young lady with the blush on her face into the categories his brain instinctively put them in, but Simon knew that only too often appearances could be deceiving. Where he saw the delicacy, it was quite possible that smile could become confident and firm, those hands wield a whip or strap, her soft voice could easily carry firm commands.

Simon looked away as her gaze fell upon him, his staring having caught her attention. She wasn’t what he was looking for. But then, none of the others in the waiting room quite fitted what he wanted and Simon was finding difficulty deciding just how he should answer the questions in front of him.

Just what do I want?

He’d been certain in mind when he’d first booked the appointment, yet as the time drew close he’d become more confused, more undecided about what he wanted or even if he even did want this. Bondage, domination and sadomasochism. The words laid out so starkly on the pad before him made him dry-mouthed, glad for the water that had been offered to him. He’d experimented at Medical school many a time, enjoying the variety and spice of the many different games he could indulge in, far from home and from River’s all too-perceptive notice. But this was different, it wasn’t taking his lover over his knee, hand falling in a rhythmical pattern until skin turned rosy red and his lover thrust against his knee, just as eager as Simon. It wasn’t being the one bent over, body shuddering, buttocks lifting into each spank in as his cock hardened.

This was different.

“Mr. Serra?” The tone was apologetic and Simon looked up into sympathetic green eyes, almost missing her words with his own thoughts, the pseudonym Inara had allowed him to use when she helped him find the House working against him.

“Yes, sorry.”

“Would you like a drink. We find it often relaxes first-timers.” She smiled, a glass of amber liquid that Simon remembered the taste of but hadn’t had in far too long, held out to him.

“Thank you,” He took it gratefully, eyes glancing to the clock as he took a sip. Di yu, He had less time then he thought he did, there were only a few hours he could stay off ship without Mal coming to drag him back, or worse, sending Jayne or Zoe to do it. Simon sucked on his bottom lip, caught in the idea of Mal striding in, grabbing him by the arm and forcibly dragging him back to Serenity sending his thoughts on yet another tangent.

Focus, Tam.

He repeated the order to himself, swiftly filling out the easier parts of the form. Name, or fake one as Simon had gratefully borrowed. Inara only smiling and teasing him that had they been closer to the guild she would have found him someone suited, in an intimate setting, with full discount of course. Age, sex, method of payment…He paused, then circled the widely used ‘trade off’.

Sounds dirty somehow. Which amused Simon given the civility of using forms and the general lack of seediness about the place.

Simply put, he had two choices. There was no in-between; whether it was being the master-he stared at the word, finger poised above, imagining the feel of leather in his hands, the swing of his arm as he set about giving the ‘slave’ just what he wanted- or slave. Simon frowned, absently chewing on the end of the pen, a habit he could never break despite how unhygienic it was. Control, he needed that. Needed to feel himself in charge, being the one to decide just what happened.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the clock once more and sipping at his drink, choosing to ignore the penetrating gaze of the receptionist. He’d been needing it, aching for it long before even coming aboard Serenity. Clinging to any and every semblance of his old life and the control, or fallacy of it, he’d enjoyed there. Aboard Serenity, he had no control,. The closest he came to it was with what little input he could put in as part of the crew or the tiniest perverse pleasure he gained from forcing his patients to behave and heal.

A pleasure which was rare given how many times his patients either shouldered him aside or clapped him on the back and strode off-only to pass out an hour or so later from overexertion.

Funny how that always seems to be Mal.

He smiled at the thought, though it was more rueful this time. Mal…one of his other reasons, his main reason at that moment in fact, for feeling so out of control. The man was stubborn, pedantic, mind set in believing ’he knew best’ and psychotic in his amusements. All of which should have put Simon off, yet it did the opposite. Mal was also true to his own, doing anything for the crew he considered family, firm and unwavering in his convictions and commitments, even if said commitment was crime. He flouted Alliance rule, thumbed his nose at the core and generally made sure Simon knew core behavior wasn’t appreciated on board. Yet at the same time, he’d protected Simon and River, even from his own crew at times. Done everything he’d promised them and given them a chance at a new life, given River a new lease of life by refusing to leave her behind, refusing to believe she was only what they made her to be.

Which did nothing in the way of throwing cold water on Simon’s libido.

Simon drummed his pen against the paper. He shouldn’t be attracted to Mal, not like this. Not this overwhelming, burning want which had him fantasizing whenever he got a moment to himself, images of the captain pressed up against him, claiming his mouth and then body possessively, constantly coming to mind. Replacing the other men that had lurked there, making his fantasies focused on only one.

It would have been close to obsession if Simon didn’t acknowledge how ludicrous it was. That Mal would want Simon back in such a fashion. Sometimes he wondered if perhaps Mal felt the same, felt the tension between them and just didn’t act on it. But then his eyes turned to Inara and Simon’s heart would sink. His stomach would roll and he’d have to look away, torn between hiding how he felt about the captain and wondering if it was written all over him, as Kaylee’s attraction and disappointment had been.

Ai ya, get a hold of yourself! Simon forced himself to focus on the form, to ignore rather than attempt to will away the erection he now sported and scratch down his choices. Bondage, yes, domination, yes. His eyes flicked through the sub choices listed below sadomasochism and settled on three, just enough for the trade off allowance.

“Sir?” The receptionist was there, another glass in hand, trying to peer curiously at the choices he’d made or possibly leering down to get a look at his crotch, Simon wasn’t sure.

“No, thank you,” Simon took a deep breath, glancing at the last choice. Master, or slave.

He wanted control, if he was the one wielding whatever they wanted, whatever they craved, giving it as much as he dared surely that would satisfy him? Would sate the craving he had to feel stable once more, to not feel like everything and everyone changed all at once and left him behind. The pen hovered over the box, the thought coming to him, the images of his hands giving pleasure and pain replaced by his body taking it. A shiver moving over him as he looked to the collar in the receptionist's hand.

He’d be giving them what they wanted. Whatever they’d desired, every sensation be it a stroke of his fingers or the sting of his hand, would be for their pleasure, their choice more than his. If he chose master, the truth was what he sought wouldn’t be his. It wasn’t the master that ultimately had control.

It was his choice.

More confident now, Simon drew a circle around the word slave, signed the form and with a smile accepted the alcohol and collar.

t.b.c

Translations:

Di yu - hell Ai ya - damn