Author’s Notes: This scene was written specifically with reference to one of the deleted scenes in “Serenity.” If you haven't seen it, you must! :)

Mal sits on the bridge and stares out into the black. He hasn’t altered course; they will be on Bena as planned by mid-afternoon tomorrow. The words echo in his mind; the question he’d been unable to hold back any longer, followed by Inara’s reply, as gorram inscrutable ever. Giving him nothing. Twisting him up inside.

Why did you leave?

Why didn’t you ask me not to?

Months later, he still doesn’t know -- or what to do differently this time. She’d been uncharacteristically at a loss for words when he’d broached the subject earlier and the thing of it is, now he’d got hopeful. Because it isn’t true that he wishes her elsewhere. Because this time, if she leaves, she’ll take that gorram trunk with her.

They’d been near enough to Bena they could have stopped to leave the trunk like to half a dozen times, but he’d always found some excuse why it wasn’t the right time.

Damn sure wasn’t the right time now either.

He gets up, heads toward Inara’s shuttle. All the months she’d been gone, they still called it that. It will always be her shuttle, even if she never returns to it on a permanent basis, but he hopes there’s something he can say ... Truth is, he’d never got used to the look of the shuttle since she’d left, stripped bare of all the hangings and her fine furnishings. Might just have been his imagination, but it always seemed a hint of scent remained, like a memory, of the incense she’d used to burn.

The door is closed, but he enters anyway before he can think better of it. Inara’s back is toward him and he can see she’s made up a bed for the night and is laying something inside her trunk.

So, she’s packing.

“Inara. We can drop you back on Bena tomorrow, back with your girls, but if you were lookin’ for a change ...” he clears his throat. “You know, you could stay. Have your shuttle back ... be like old times.”

They were good times. Kaylee chasing River through the cargo bay, River shrieking with laughter. Inara combing through Kaylee’s hair, putting it up, all sophisticated-like. Kaylee looking with wonder at her own reflection and then later sitting with Inara on the catwalk, sharing some of her home brew. He used to catch his breath every time he caught sight of Inara coming down the stairs from her shuttle, trailing ruffles and swathed in silk, with her inky dark eyes and creamy skin.

Her leaving had put an end to those times. Seemed everything had got darker from then on. He couldn’t fault the preacher for leaving or Simon for intending to.

Inara turns to face him, a slight smile playing about her lips. She no longer even appears surprised at the intrusion. “Is that a business proposition?”

He opens his mouth to reply and then stares at her. Whatever thought he’d had abandons him as he takes in her appearance. She isn’t wearing any of the usual robes he’s used to seeing her in. Her hair is up in some sort of loose knot and her face is scrubbed clean of makeup. Her legs are bare and …

“It’s, uh ... what are you … is that my shirt?” he manages.

She looks down and then back at her trunk. “Mal, as you might recall, we were in something of a hurry when we left. I didn’t bring ... I just borrowed it for something to wear. I didn’t have any night clothes ... in ... the trunk. I left everything back on ...”

As much as he can think, he knows that’s not true. He’s looked through that trunk, pawed through every damn one of the flimsy garments in it, even buried his face in one or two, drinking in her scent. Some of ‘em he didn’t even know what they were, but like enough to something she could sleep in. Had to take himself in hand after, her smell wafting about, trying hard not to leave a trace on any of her clothing. He stirs in his breeches at the thought, and why would she lie about something like that? He shuts his mouth, aware he is gaping at her.

“Where did you get my shirt?”

“It was here, in the shuttle. I don’t know why ... I just ... I’ll make sure it’s washed and returned before I leave tomorrow.”

“Jian ta de gui,” he says.

In two strides he stands before her. No one is ever washing that shirt again.

Her eyes are fixed on his face and he notices that even without makeup her lashes are long and dark. His cock throbs. He’s never seen her like this and in his shirt and does she even have anything on beneath it? He reaches out as if in a dream to take the pins out of her hair and he has dreamt of this, her black hair spilling over his fingers, softer than he'd have even thought possible.

If she tells him no, if she pushes him away ... He doesn’t want to give her time to think, he’s barely thinking himself as he pulls her to him, and at last he is kissing her. He barely registers her arms around his neck. It is like drowning, only he doesn’t want to breathe. He can’t seem to control his hands; he wants to touch her everywhere – before she puts a stop to this – and the kiss is sloppy, but she is so gorram sweet, he can’t keep from trying to drink her in.

One hand stops on her bottom and he kneads it, crushing her to him; the other wraps around the warm weight of her breast through the soft cotton of his shirt. He teases the peak of her nipple with his thumb. He can tell now that she isn’t wearing anything underneath and he is harder still, imagining. He tears his mouth away from hers and mouths at her breasts through his shirt.

She gasps and then her hand is on him. He is tenting his breeches and he knows he is already leaking inside, the dampness in his underclothes adding to the friction as she rubs him. He draws back to take her in and sees the outline of her nipple, hard, beneath the wet circle he has made and he wants to suck some more, but then she has him out and wuo duh tian ah, he needs to be inside her.

He hasn’t done this in too long and it’s not going to be gentle or sweet, not the way things are going. He’s thankful for Nandi, because he might last a little longer, but it was nothing like this, this heat threatening to overwhelm him from the inside, this craving to be deep inside Inara, if only for the moment.

Trying to hang onto his sanity, he opens her up, combing through soft curls, seeking her yīn dì. But his fingers move through slick heat as she spreads her legs and Mal groans at how wet she is, already, and for him.

In one move he hoists her up, slamming her against the wall. Inara gasps and he fears he has been too rough – he never wants to hurt her, can’t stand it when he thinks of the times men have – but then her legs are around his waist and she is kissing him, open mouthed, her tongue tangling with his. She moans back in her throat and he is lost. He braces her against the wall of the shuttle and angles forward. She guides him to her and he gasps when the head of his cock touches wet heat. He pauses briefly and then pushes in with one sharp stroke.

“Wǒ cào,” Mal mutters and he has to stop and bury his face in her neck, his chest heaving, or he is going to come. He might not be the best she’s ever had, but gorram if he wants her to remember him as the shortest. His lips twist. Right now he doesn’t want to think about the other men.

He wants to make it good for her, but Inara is rubbing herself against him making little mewling noises in her throat, legs locked around his waist and she is so hot and tight around him. She doesn’t stop to let him get hold of himself either. The friction as she pushes up and then down again is sweet torture.

Mal draws back and pushes in again. His groan starts deep in his throat and she draws it out of him just like his soul. She’s so damn beautiful, never more than now, in his crumpled shirt and no makeup, her hair tangled and sweaty, just her slim arms wrapped around him and the silk of her skin beneath his hands. He kneads her bottom, pulling her cheeks apart as he plunges deep again and latches onto her neck, marking her.

She clenches around him then and the heat of her, the pressure is too much. She’s grinding against him on every thrust now, moaning continuously. Mal tries to hold on, but he grunts and Jesus God, he’s rutting like an animal, driving into her again and again. She’s stroking him from the inside and climbing all over him wet and hot and slick, and he can’t … he can’t …

He can’t hold on any longer and he comes in a rush, with the stars exploding all around him, firing the black with a flash of brilliant light. He gasps out her name as he pumps into her, filling her again and again, and drops his head on her shoulder, holding her tight.

When he comes to, after a moment, he realizes that she is still restless. Inara shifts against him and he slides out, sticky and wet. He raises his head and looks at her; her face is flushed and she is still breathing quickly. Her eyes are wide and dark on his face, naked want in her gaze.

“Mal,” she says. “Mal …”

She hasn’t finished. His chest is hot and tight knowing how easily she could have pretended otherwise. He thinks maybe he’s never seen her like this, wanting something so openly, and from him.

As suddenly exhausted as he is, he’s never wanted to give anything so badly before.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

He kisses her deeply, and when she writhes against him again, he gathers her into his arms, one hand behind her head. Her legs are still locked around his waist and his britches are undone and he staggers toward the bed. He means to lower her gently, but in the end, they fall together and he hopes again that he hasn’t hurt her.

He rolls off of her and to the side and the look she gives him assures him that she’s fine. She spreads her legs and he is riveted, his gaze raking up slender thighs to the wispy curls running down the center of her sex and he wants to fucking bury himself in her.

But as she draws him down for another heated kiss, he brings his hand up, at first just teasing, caressing her outer folds. When she pushes up into him, he delves inside. She’s still dripping with his come, and he rubs it into her, teasing higher up, until she startles in his arms.

“There, Mal,” she gasps, “Oh, there, please, yes, there.”

He lowers his head to her breast and sucks, teasing her nipple through the wet cloth with his tongue, and uses his middle finger to rub at her. He thinks she must be close and he does his best to keep his finger in the right place. It’s been even longer since he’s done this, but when she cries out and bucks under his hand, he figures he must have done something right. He holds her as she shudders and keeps his hand in place until she covers it with her own and gently moves it away.

He looks up at her then. Inara’s eyes are closed and there is a small smile on her lips. Her hair spreads out around her like black silk. He kisses her gently once more and then, overcome with lassitude, rolls onto his back. He’s not sure how long they lay there, only that the silence is comfortable somehow. She is soft and warm, curled up at his side and he feels right inside in a way he hasn’t since … well, he doesn’t know when.

Eventually she stirs against him. Mal is not sure what to say now, but he remembers what started this all.

“Woman,” he says, “You owe me a shirt.”

Inara smiles in response, traces a finger down his chest. “I think I can manage that on Bena.”

Alarm flares beneath her touch. “But …”

“I have to go back to the Training House, Mal. After the way I … we … left. Besides, all my things are there.”

He closes his eyes and swallows hard. He thought maybe ... but of course she’s not going to abandon the House, much less her years of training. He wants to turn to her and wrap her in his arms and not let her go. But he will, of course. Again. And then what?

“Hey.” Soft lips are on his. He opens his eyes to see her propped up on her side, the curve of her breast pressed against him. “I have to go back. For awhile, anyway, but I don’t have to stay. That is, if …”

“Shuttle’s yours, Inara. Always has been.” He has to close his eyes at that. He almost – almost – doesn’t care what she uses it for, just so long as she’s back on Serenity. He draws a deep breath before he looks up at her again. But her eyes are warm and he laughs.

“No really,” he says, and grasps her hand, stilling it. “What are you doing in my shirt?”

Mal is surprised when she drops her eyes and looks away. He thinks maybe she means not to answer him, has to strain to hear her when she does.

“I wanted to spend this – my last night here – wrapped up in you.”

Wuo de ma and he wants her all over again. He can feel himself stirring, even so soon after, and this time he is going to tear that gorram shirt off. “Other ways to go about that, bao bei.”

“So I see,” Inara says. She smiles, looks down at him through her lashes.

He thinks maybe, just maybe, this time she’ll stay.

fin

Chinese:

jian ta de gui   like hell wǒ cào   holy fuck wuo duh tian ah    dear God in heaven yīn dì    clitoris wuo de ma    Mother of Jesus bao bei    sweetheart

Author's Notes: I really wrestled with the Chinese profanity in this. I hope these translations are accurate. I searched the web high and low and combed through various Firefly / Serenity resource guides but these are the best I could find. If you read this and spot any errors, I’d very much appreciate it if you would let me know.

I wasn't able to find any official evidence as to what the planet on which the Companion Training House is located is called; I went with "Bena" as that's what it's called in the Virtual Firefly Project (at stillflying.net.) I haven't actually read season two there, but I figured I might as well be consistent. :)