Pairing: Mal/Simon Warnings: fantasising, smut, dom/sub games, thrashing

Thanks to Vae for the great beta.

~

Gorramn women!

Mal bit back the curse, not wanting to be heard by either of them, knowing at least one was more than capable of matching him in wit and with a cutting tongue. The “heard that!” that floated down on a laugh had him shutting the cargo doors behind him with a scowl.

This hadn’t been his intent on settling down at Cephallis. Stopping there had been a different plan, one he was mighty glad they were carrying out given all Serenity’s breaks and aches lately. The planet was one of the best places for parts and barter was practically a way of life for the people. Kaylee, at least, had enjoyed herself as he’d taken her around all the places.

He’d been feeling the need building for a while, feeling himself having to hold back and curb some of the things that came to his mouth, hidden thoughts that would have made blushes, mutiny or the occasional gun barrel to his face, come about. He couldn’t deny that it hadn’t ever crossed his mind that there was something that could be relieving him planetside. Lessening the ache he had, the itch he felt. It wasn’t often Mal found himself at a loss with what to do, but Kaylee was insisting the ship needed time to settle with all the parts she planned to put in her- like a kid in candy shop, she was routing through all the junk they’d picked up sweet and crooning to Serenity as she tinkered with her innards.

Whoring with Jayne hadn’t been an option, even if the merc had offered, looking more interested than Mal had liked. Everyone else had things to do or people to see. He’d even interrupted some kind of fancy tea Inara was putting on for River, the companion becoming annoyed when he’d tried hovering just to see what was going on. Bored enough to hanker for an invite. One that didn’t come.

If you can’t control yourself Mal, I suggest that you find someone who can.

He sniffed, rubbing underneath his nose at the itch there. It had been Inara’s offhand comment that had got him thinking of the House, got him wondering about going back for another taste. Complete control…it was tempting, so much so it had his feet walking that way even if Mal reckoned he didn’t have enough coin for it. He hadn’t had that kind of control, that kind of willing submission given over to him, since the last time he’d been at the House years ago, not too long after buying Serenity. They weren’t too uppity or too damn choosey, and they didn’t stand on ceremony either, but they were well run, and held an aggressive pride in keeping their customers happy.

First time I ever did feel that kind of pleasure at someone following my orders.

He hadn’t enjoyed the war, hadn’t just craved fighting as a youthful heroic exercise. It had been more than that. Standing up against those who wanted to squash and control them, lump them all together and bring them under Alliance thumb. Mal hadn’t been willing to give up that part of himself, to let anyone take it away or roll over it, arrogant in body and belief.

“Evenin’.” He smiled at the woman on duty, clearing his throat as she looked him appraisingly up and down before handing him a white form, which he barely glanced at.

“First timer?” She sounded bored, though she attempted to keep up a professional demeanor and Mal couldn’t resist laying it back down on the counter in front of her.

“Nope.”

She actually looked interested now, fingers pressing on the computer in front of her as she waited for the computer to scan and match him to her database.

“Mr. Reynolds?” She was smiling now, leaning forward to clasp her hands together. “Will you be wanting the same as last time, or do you have something special in mind?”

Zāo gāo, this was embarrassing, Mal rubbing at his hair as he tried ignoring all other eyes he could feel on him. “Kinda, got a few issues with that. Runnin’ low on coin you see an’-”

“No problem.” She held up a hand cutting off Mal’s perplexed noise, fingers working furiously over the pad. “We can give you a trade off rather than your usual.” She must have noticed the quirk of his eyebrow as she looked up and went on to explain. “We match you to someone suitable, with mutual interests and tastes and as long as they are here, we allow you to both act out your desires at a reduced rate. We've got a few first timers here that I can scan through-see if they’d work out.”

Ain’t never heard of that one before. Mal paused for a second, then leaned forward to try and peer at her computer screen, “Well, got anyone?”

***

Mal fingered the leather bands around his wrists experimentally, turning to look himself up and down in the mirror before running fingers through his hair. He wasn’t one for costumes, had ignored the leather ensemble left for him, only hanging up his coat by way of changing. The leather bands weren’t an option, nor a choice, they were a safety net. In case a master lost control, started attacking or hurting too much, became too sadistic or perverse for the slave to stand. He’d heard tell they could render a man unconscious in less than a minute, after said amount of time in excruciating pain first. Incapacitation by electrocution.

“Not planning’ on loosin’ control.” He murmured the words to himself, trying them out, finding them as true as the first time he’d said them. He didn’t tend to break everything and go wild, didn’t bottle things up and have them spill out in a torrent either. He simply did. Simply kept flying, kept working and held the crew together. It wasn’t about losing himself in the beating, about taking his anger out on someone else.

“Not that I’ve not lost my temper before.” Mal rubbed his hands together, slight smile twisting his lips at the thought. He’d let fly often enough with hurtful words, tossed a punch or two Simon’s way and a wrench Jayne’s but never then, and even now, he’d not wanted to lose himself and just keep doing it. Let everything out that way and beat on one of his own, even if it was beating sense in.

He liked having the control, having someone obedient who didn’t question, just enjoyed what he chose to give. Took what he chose to give. Made a change.

Mal’s fingers were splayed on the door, pushing it open slightly, stepping into the darkened room. Anonymity, or as close as they could get to it, Mal still being able to see enough. Part of the shame of the trade off meant not seeing each others faces, but the darkened room had the relief of being able to enjoy and then be able to go about business, without worrying your newest client was one who had you bent over groaning the night before.

He expected to see the other man standing, waiting for his command but was pleasantly surprised when he stepped in. Appeared for a first timer the man was either remarkably astute, or he’d been reading up, fantasizing.

Mal was suddenly dry-throated as he stepped forward, getting closer, not hesitated before yet he did now, unable to take his eyes from the boy who knelt in front of him. A fascination gripped him about the almost familiar sight before him, drawing him into the unfamiliar scenario. Fully clothed save bare feet, resting on his knees with his back to Mal and hands clasped behind him, the whole room seemed to pause in anticipation for the boy who’d half tilted his head in the barest of movements to acknowledge Mal’s presence.

Mā de, where they be findin’ this one? Gorgeous and submissive and playin’ the game without rules needin’ to be set out.

Not that Mal wasn’t planning to set them. He had every intention and was feeling his cock swell in anticipation of it. Not that he wasn’t half-hard already, sight of the beauty in the slave before him making him impatient to start. And he wasn’t even seeing the best bits. The slave was dark haired, not short style either which reassured Mal that he weren’t Alliance, blindfold covering his eyes and obscuring the top of his face.

Shame he don’t turn round.

But that wasn’t part of the deal and much as Mal wanted to walk round the front to see what lay beneath the blindfold, he wouldn’t. Would just enjoy the game, find his release and give the slave his. Wouldn’t think anymore of walking around to lift the material away and see if the image that came to mind when he stared at the slave would be the person staring back at him. A person he knew wouldn’t be caught within a mile of an establishment like the house, or enticed by games such as these.

“Stand.” The word is rough when it comes from his throat, pushing away the picture of Simon looking up at him, shy smile on his face as he waited compliantly.

As the man got easily to his feet, standing still save a slight bounce on his heels, Mal moved behind him. Close enough to touch and run possessive fingers over the back of the collar around the slave’s neck, stroking over the velvet in an excuse to touch as much as it was a confirmation of just who belonged to who at that moment. He could feel the man’s pulse jump and quicken for a second, Mal’s fingers vibrating slightly as he felt the man shudder at his touch. Letting them move a little lower to stroke over warm and smooth flesh just underneath the collar, Mal feeling the temptation rise within him to step forward and run his tongue where his fingers had been, to bite over that collar and brand the man with his mark.

“Strip.” He growled the word out, taking a step back as he remembered the details. No sex, the slave had been adamant at that according to the staff. Seemed he had a distaste for being touched in an intimate fashion by a stranger. Not that Mal was normally one to want that anyway, but seeing the man, feeling him shiver at his touch and he was wanting more. He hadn’t ever been this affected before, not ever finding his mind wander from the task at hand, building its own ideas and trying to trick him into believing in them. Then again, the last slave he’d had didn’t remind him of Simon Tam.

Ain’t nothin’ but a fantasy there, an’ one that ain’t ever gonna be comin’ true.

It wasn’t fair either, to both of them. Slave should have been deserving of his full attention and when he ruthlessly shoved the whimsy aside, Mal would be giving it.

Focusing on the man in front of him, only too aware that the slave’s hands were working over his shirt buttons, he purposefully dragged his attention away for a moment, eyes flitting briefly to the man’s choice of toy. The thick leather strap could leave some vicious looking welts, bruise up the skin a treat but rarely broke it and Mal kept in mind that his slave wasn’t one that approved of blood play. At least, not according to his form anyway, which was lucky enough since Mal didn‘t have the stomach for it anyhow. Mal approved of the choice, though he kept himself from picking it up too hastily, instead letting his gaze rest on the back of the man in front of him.

Just at the right time too, appeared that his slave had finished unbuttoning the finicky design of his shirt and was shrugging it off. Shoulders pushed back, shirt showing a hint of muscle before the shirt slid firmly off revealing more than just a hint. Making Mal suddenly aware that this couldn’t be his fantasy, couldn’t be Simon in front of him that had crafted and built up the fine muscles on his back. Couldn’t be the man he wanted to rut with that stood so quietly in front of him, lean body and fine muscle out on display, making Mal lick at his suddenly dry lips. The captain wanting nothing more than to step forward and run his tongue down that damn shuài sight.

Mal cleared his throat, seeing that the slave had paused as if waiting for more instructions, “What yer waitin’ for boy? Wasn‘t a time ago that I told you to strip.” He growled the words out, voice low and steady. His cock was hard, pressed up against his pants, making Mal shift his weight, spread his legs rather than take himself in hand. Game was over when one of them found release, wasn’t mattering which one but Mal wasn’t going to be letting it be him. Not first, anyhow.

Mind you, ain’t letting’ him find his pleasure ‘til I say he can.

His slave made a soft sound, the barest of whispers that Mal would have missed if his mind had been elsewhere. “Sorry…master.”

Smooth, slender hands were at crotch level now, fiddling with more infernal buttons that had Mal quelling his impatience, glad he wasn’t the one the slave went home to, rutted with. Likelihood was that had he been, those clothes and any other fancy finery with too many buttons would have been long gone. Just like Simon’s had slowly been starting to, Mal thankfully losing sight of the pompous looking vests which had always irked him in their stiffness, and way they hid just how well Simon’s shirt fit to him.

Mal pushed the thought aside, sensing his slave waiting for something, deliberately keeping him on edge before replying in a low, gentler tone, “Just keep to it.”

He could see the shiver that ran through the man in front of him, hands no longer hesitant but bolder as the pushed pants down to the floor, not moving to step out of them and wearing nothing beneath them as he let his master take a long look. Let Mal take in the sight of him.

Ta ma de. Mal nearly breathed the words aloud, eyes moving back up from where they’d followed the dropping pants, roaming over toned, smooth flesh. Breath hitching slightly as his gaze settled on the curve of his slave’s taut buttocks, just as smooth as the rest of him leaving Mal to wonder if he ran his hand over the man, got that close to touch where he wanted to taste, would he feel baby fuzz of a man born smooth, or nothing but skin, of a man well-groomed.

His fingers itched to touch, to trace over the body of the slave in front of him, but he held himself back his eyes moving passed the fine form to the contraption in front of the wall. Not at all erotic, or plush save a comfy looking cushion jutting out from its centre, but not tacky or vile either, it simply was. X-shaped and large enough to tie a man to, meant to tie a person too, one willing and eager.

“You be needin’ this now.” It wasn’t a question as Mal’s fingers curved over the belt, picking it up and weighing it in his hand. “An’ I’ll be givin’ it to you, dong ma?”

“Yes, master.” The soft answer was louder this time, the slave half-turning his head and making Mal back up a step, suddenly not wanting to see the man’s face.

“Then you be gettin’ yerself over there an’ being ready for me.”

The slave stumbled slightly, feet caught in his pants as he moved forward, body tilting and almost tripping but he righted himself in time and walked carefully over to the frame. He lay himself against it, legs spread, arms outstretched, lined up with the shape of it. Making a picture that Mal didn’t want to be losing memory of anytime soon.

Might be willin’ but he’s not stupid, smart enough to keep a hold of the safety line. Mal’s eyes were on the small cylinder clutched in one of the slave’s hands, last ditch resort if things turned violent, unbecoming.

He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, had to take those few steps closer, belt loosely hung over his shoulder as he did. Moving up behind his slave, not touching, not where he wasn’t meant to even though he ached for it. Wanting to press up against his slave, push his hard cock against the man’s buttocks and grind against him. The urge was almost overwhelming, Mal forcing himself from leaning that little bit forward, even though he could smell the musky scent of the man in front of him, could smell his arousal without having to see his cock at full flag.

“Now I’ll be givin’ you what you need, what you been good enough to be deservin’ of.” Mal allowed himself the luxury of running his hands up one of his slave’s arms, fingers pausing at his wrist to buckle the restraint there. “An’ If I’m wantin’ it, you’ll be thankin’ me,” He ran his fingers along the top of his slave’s shoulder, letting them stroke over muscle contours and dips, “Each an’ every time I ask you too.” He buckled the other restraint and felt the man shudder slightly, though he remained quietly still.

Mal wanted to shatter that quiet, felt the urge to have his slave groaning his name however unrealistic that was. “Conjure you want that too.” His gaze was caught for a moment, just above his slave’s hip on the small symbol inked there, interlinked pattern that wasn’t familiar-looked to be unique to Mal’s mind, like the slave had made it personal for himself. He sunk slowly to his knees, eyes greedily devouring his slave’s body where his mouth couldn’t. Ai ya, it was a temptation not to lean forward and nip at those buttocks, to bury his face between them and…

His slave shifted, moving his foot slightly, shaking Mal from what he’d been unconsciously leaning in closer to do as if impatient and reminding his master. Mal licked his lips, swollen cock suddenly feeling all the more bound as he reached for the man’s ankle, buckled the restraint firmly there before shifting over and moving to the next. It was an interesting angle if he looked up, his slave’s buttocks pushed out by the cushion that adorned the frame, Mal getting a glancing view of what hung between his legs. Slave certainly was enjoying this just as much as he was, and looked just as delicious from that angle as he did at every other.

Bucking the other restraint carefully, Mal let his fingers caress the man’s ankle for a moment, move slightly up his leg and feel there. Baby fuzz, he should have guessed, least on his slave’s legs anyhow, he had his doubts about the rest of him. The man was certainly well-groomed, obedient and just as keen to play the game.

Damn glad I didn’t have enough coin for others. Mal wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on this.

“Be readyin’ yourself now,” He gave the caution as he stood up, taking liberties he knew he really shouldn’t chance on by running his fingers lightly up his slave’s sides, making the man squirm and stifle a breathy gasp before he stepped back. “You find yourself not, you know what to be sayin’.” The safe word, cut off in case things went to far, before the wrist bracelets were needed in action.

Face obscured, head tilted to one side, the boy nodded and then when Mal didn’t speak, he verbalised his answer. “Of course, master.”

It was the master that made Mal take a hold of the strap, feeling it gripped in his hand, feeling like it belonged there-at least for the moment. He skimmed his eye over his slave’s tattoo, the small symbol he was unwilling to mark. Stepping back, his fingers clutched more tightly around the belt, eyes on the swell of his slave’s buttocks as he pulled his arm back and swung the strap forward. It cracked loudly as it struck across the man’s buttocks, making them shake slightly before the reddish hue started to rise across them, welt quickly forming though his slave didn’t make a sound.

“Thank me for it.” Mal had no intention of making the man thank him after every strike, just the first and last. Anything else would be an interruption and unwelcome one at that.

“Master, thank you.” The words were shuddery, a soft gasp to them and Mal could see his slave’s hands clenching and unclenching in the restraints before he pushed his buttocks back readily, showing his need for more.

Mal waited, letting the pain sink in, letting his slave grow impatient and giving him no warning before he pulled the strap back again, striking it hard just below the tattoo on the man’s lower back drawing a gasp from the man’s lips as he arched his back, body stretching up, restraints rattling. Keep to upper back an’ buttocks, no riskin’ of injury then.

Ain’t seen no one more perfect than him at this. Mal had to admire the way his slave kept from crying out. Wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear pain and desire and pleasure all being spoken out, just could be a distraction coming too soon, especially if he wasn’t so sure the man was enjoying it.

Mal grinned, seeing the man rock in his bonds, body having enough freedom for his slave to rub himself against the cushion, cock finding the friction needed to bring a second gasp to his lips.

He wanted to touch, fingers rubbing the centre of his palm as his free hand clenched and unfolded. If I was palmin’ him, rather’an that cushion bein’ there- But it wasn’t but a dream, brief musing wish that had Mal shifting as his slave did.

“Stop.”

Mal felt a touch of annoyance as his slave took it upon himself to misbehave, wriggling for a moment longer than Mal’s command was issued before stilling, not an apology on his lips.

“Won’t be finding’ your pleasure, ‘less I’m telling’ you to.” Hearing the beginnings of an apology coming from the man, Mal let the strap do all the answering for him, drawing it back quickly to bring three strikes down in quick succession upon pink buttocks. The cracking noise filled the room, masking any audible response his slave might have had, but the man wriggled fetchingly within his bonds, buttocks jiggling as he rose to his toes.

Hand cupping his cock now, not chancing on pulling it from his pants, Mal pulled back the belt once more, the swish as the strap descended the only warning he gave.

CRACK.

His slave’s hand was nowhere near the panic button, a grunt coming to his lips rather than the safe word. Mal could hear his breath shudder a little. He couldn’t tell if the man was enjoying himself with the thrashing so hard, but he knew he was needing it, was wanting the burn and then his slave gave the slightest of wriggles. The barest mischief as he rubbed himself once more, motion so small it could have been involuntary or could have been teasing. Could have been taunting Mal to punish him some more.

“Betcha needin’ this like I am, bet you got someone you’re thinkin’ of too.” Mal licked his lips, eyes wandering across his slave’s buttocks, redness covering the round globes, welts forming where the strap caught at his thighs too. He couldn’t help being mesmerised by it, eyes moving from pale, unmarred skin to that which he’d adorned.

His slave shivered, hesitating before he nodded very slightly, thoughts in an eerie tandem to Mal’s as he tensed and anticipated the blow across his buttocks. Surprising Mal and prompting him to follow quickly with a harder one across the crease at the bottom. That brought more than a soft grunt to his lips, the man gasping out a cry as strap met already reddened skin, feet pulling on the restraints as he tried stamping his feet, fingers gripping at the wood.

“Shouldn’t be doin‘ that. Ain’t lettin’ you be thinkin’ of no one but me. Just me, the only master here.”

It was getting harder to stand still now, cock aching to be palmed and fisted. Mal was unable to tear his eyes away, watching pink and red suffusing his slave’s flesh, watching the bottom of his buttocks turn a darker shade closer to purple as he snapped the strap forward, aiming for that area and relishing the sharp cry the man made as the strap connected. Close to pain, but not so close that Mal felt perverse at enjoying it. He could hear his slave murmuring now, quiet pleas that had nothing to do with being untied since both safe word and safety switch were untouched.

“Please, master! Please!”

Mal’s wasn’t sure why it was different this time, why he couldn’t just remain silent, just thrash the man and take his pleasure from it, taking himself to hand rather than focusing on his slave finding release first. On keeping himself hard and desperate until he got back to his bunk to get his release. To close his eyes and do what he was wanting to do to his slave, letting his imagination do what his body couldn't.

Slave being unblindfolded and staring up at him with kissable lips as he took his hand to those warm buttocks, dropping the strap to pull him over one knee, feeling cock scrape against cock with his slave pleading with his name. Needing his master, craving his release.

A too-real fantasy, that had Mal unbuttoning himself, slipping fingers inside to grasp at his cock. Wasn’t so funny how much the slave in his imaginations was looking identical to his doctor though. He had to be fair to his slave. The man was behaving himself now, squirming a little every now and then before forcing himself still.

“Sayin’ no one’s name but mine, not keeping yer lips pressed prettily together. You best be lettin’ loose when I’m doing this.”

Mal closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing his cock and feeling the heat rush through him, his fingers sticky with pre-come. If he didn’t pull back soon it would be too late, he would have found his release before giving the other man his. Couldn’t help pushing at himself to hold on, pulling sticky fingers from his fly as he rolled his shoulder, feeling an ache that would be sharper by morning.

Thrashing his slave in a quick succession, three blows striking the top of his buttocks, upper back and further down to his buttocks once more. Avoiding the tattoo he couldn’t think on colouring and the delicate lower back area, Mal bit back a groan of his own at his slave’s cries. Needy and pleading, more noise as the man shuddered, a breathless ‘yes’ coming after the cry had faded. A yes, that trembled slightly with relief, his slave sinking briefly against the scaffold, crying out and grunting as Mal rewarded him with three more for his obedience. Mal watch, cock twitching as his slave rose up on his toes, trembling with the exertion of taking each strike and keeping himself from rubbing against the cushion.

Friction’s gonna be playin‘ hell with the boy‘s resistance, don‘t think he can be takin‘ much more without lettin‘ himself go.

He could see the tension in his slave, the perspiration on his back and shoulders, his eyes following one droplet which trailed down his bruised back disappearing between hot, red buttocks. Patience be damned.

“Can let yourself come as you‘re takin’ these, find your release an’ let me hear you take it.”

The man’s back was welting up nicely too but Mal was loathe to have him find release as he stuck there. He needed to see those buttocks push back eagerly for more, clench tightly as his slave’s cock rubbed just enough to get balls pushing out his release. Part of him can see the man won’t be sitting for a while, but so long as there’s no words used he doesn’t care.

“Please, master…I need…please!”

Caught between fantasy and reality, watching each blow met with eagerness and want. Hearing cries more pleasure than pain as his slave offered himself out and rocked back, thrusting against the cushion as each blow drove him into it. Not just his slave now, not to Mal’s mind, the grunted curses and cries and pleas were his name, repeated over and over. And somehow they merged with what he wanted, seeing Simon before him writhing on the frame superimposing himself over Mal’s slave, only variations between the images are that Simon’s looking over one shoulder, glancing back at him before every blow and it’s Simon calling out his name, leaning back eagerly as restraints allow for more. Mal’s hand strayed to his cock once more, painfully aroused as he watched, his hand aching slightly but still firm, squeezing, nothing more.

“Mal!”

The cry echoed around the room and Mal froze, gripping the strap hard, unsure if the voice was real or his imagination. The sound of his name ringing in his ears as he focused on the man in front.

Simon?

No, not Simon, instead his slave. The man was shaking, and breathing heavily, breaking the oppressive silence in room, the smell of sweat and sex heavy in the air, telling Mal he‘d found his release. Painfully hard, Mal longed to step forward and feel that for himself, to cup his slave’s cock and balls, feeling them spent and aching.

Somehow he managed to form words, to end the game that had him thrown so off balance. “Best be thankin’ me, boy.”

His slave had sagged against the supports, hanging limply, sated, body hot and reddened making Mal long to feel the heat there, to run a hand down the muscular sweat shined back, to run his tongue along each welt as if healing them.

Missed the tattoo, anyhow. Aim’s improved some.

“Thank you.” His slave’s words were murmured, the man hanging his head between the supports, no master added from his lips, half-tempting Mal to remind him. To move forward and feel the warmth on the man’s buttocks before using his hand as a warning reminder. But then temptation would prove too great, so instead he turned on his heels, all but fleeing from the room so weighted down with tension and need. He knew the House’s staff would unfasten and release his slave, standing close and running fingers back over that smooth skin could well have proven his undoing, the last temptation, had he unbound him.

What coin he had was well spent, but Mal ignored any of the complimentary items, instead walking with some difficulty back towards his ship, coat held firmly in front of him. Later, he lay on his bunk, cock in hand and groans barely stifled on his lips, spilling his release over the memory of the man he’d so recently thrashed. The dark haired mystery, so responsive and needing and open, that Mal couldn’t help fantasizing had been Simon.

Translations:

Zāo gāo- crap

Mā de - fuck

Shuài- handsome

Ta ma de- fuck me blind

Dong ma?- understand?

Ai ya- damn