First of all, a great big thank you to everyone who's left comments for my recent posts. All your kind words are greatly appreciated!

Guildsister noted that I seem to be much with the sniffle-making. So I thought I'd post something...completely different.

Imagine, if you will, a future Firefly timeline in which Mal and Inara come to an understanding that allows them to share a mostly happy life on Serenity. Anyone who's read my "Dreams/Dealing" series will know the initial set-up.

This story relates a particularly pleasant moment in that future.

Special note: Although I selected PG-13 from the ratings list, this story is definitely more of an R.

The usual disclaimers apply.

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"Sweet" by HawkMoth (c) January 2, 2004 ******

It was a familiar routine.

Well, not so much that as a duty. Not really an obligation. Almost a necessity.

If Malcolm Reynolds didn't walk through Serenity at night before turning in, it was a sure guarantee he wouldn't sleep well. No matter if they were flying safely under the radar in some nowhere corner of the black or making a wide detour to avoid trouble; no difference if they'd recently departed some dusty world after a job gone smooth or rough. He had to check things out.

At least he'd gotten over his own rule that he couldn't hit his bunk unless he was absolutely certain everyone else was tucked away in their beds. He could let it pass if Book sat up late reading in the commons or Simon was in the infirmary messing around with doctorly stuff. As long as he knew everyone was safe, Mal could sleep the sleep of the just. And nowadays he had an extra incentive for not staying up all hours looking out for his crew.

He was still getting used to the idea of someone waiting up for him. It had long been his habit anyway to make a walk by the shuttles his last tour of the night. The big change was letting himself inside number one and finding a warm welcome. Most nights Inara was there, curled up in her wide, inviting bed with a book, or maybe half-asleep--either way she'd be smiling at the sound of his footsteps. There'd be a hint of frown if she thought he was up too late or fretting about something, and in her uncanny way she'd almost always know before he did if he wanted conversation, sleep or something more.

Some nights, though, like this one, the lights in the shuttle were burning low and the bed was empty. That usually meant Inara was waiting up in his bunk, fretting about something her own self and in need of much holding and soothing, or in the sort of crazy mood that could still take him by surprise but which usually meant sleep was not in the cards.

Mal swung back down the steps and along the catwalk, wondering what was in store. He couldn't think of anything that might have happened of late to upset her, then caught himself grinning with expectation. He wondered if she was making up for all those years of Companion-required dignity and composure by once in a while being all wild and a mite out of control. Or mayhap she just enjoyed getting him all worked up as well, then carrying on ever aware that their shipmates were so very nearby.

Of course, even out of control she was much better at controlling her reactions than he was. Not that he was tired of smothering a groan or cry against her warm, sweet mouth or sweat-slicked skin, but he wished one of these nights he could figure out a way to gain the upper hand, so to speak. Make her get just a little bit crazy.

He was pondering possibilities as he reached the main foredeck gangway. Before he could turn towards his bunk he realized the galley hatch which had been open as usual on his walk through earlier was now shut tight. When he peered in through the window he saw the opposite one was also closed.

Craning his head at an angle to see what was what, he caught a glimpse of Inara behind the counter near the stove. There was a mess of stuff laid out before her--a couple of small soup pans, some bowls and more. She seemed deeply engrossed in whatever she was up to at this hour, which obviously meant he wasn't part of the menu tonight.

Mal waited until she was done pouring something from a pan to a bowl with a look of intense concentration before he cautiously slid the hatch open. She was startled anyway, her look of alarm fading when she realized it was him.

"A bit late for cookin', ain't it?" he asked, stepping down into the room.

"It's supposed to be a surprise, which is why I had the doors shut," she said with a meaningful glare over his shoulder.

As he turned quickly to secure the hatch, a delicious, darkly sweet smell hit his nose. Chocolate. Not the cheap, poorly made kind they usually picked up at dock-side markets when they had cash to spare for "luxuries." This was the real deal, pure and potent, straight from some Core world confectionary. The sort you could find with luck, if you knew the right places to shop on a planet like Beaumonde, which they'd left about eight hours back after a decent-paying job.

When he strode over to the stove to join her, and saw what else Inara was working with, he didn't have to ask who the surprise was for.

"It ain't Kaylee's birthday," he reminded her, flicking one finger against the bowl full of ripe, red strawberries resting on the counter.

She slapped his hand away. "I know that. River was telling her stories about the parties she and Simon had when they were children. All the different treats--well, you know how Kaylee is," Inara said with a fond smile. "Always so curious about Core life, and not envious of it, just--wistful."

Mal shrugged, discomfited. He knew Kaylee didn't necessarily want that kind of life, but it bothered him that she seemed so enamored of it. "Yeah, but--"

"But nothing, Mal," Inara cut him off. "It does no harm, the girls sharing stories like that. River likes to hear about Kaylee's old life just as much. They're just having fun."

"Well, fine, so long as story time don't cut into work or chores," he groused, more for show than really meaning it.

"Kuh-oo duh lao bao-jun," Inara shot right back.

He watched as she continued her work, dipping and swirling another berry in the gooey melted candy, and laying it carefully on a plate with others already done.

"Chocolate-covered strawberries. Now that is the height of decadence. And expense," he couldn't help adding.

"Paid for out of my cut of the job we just finished," Inara answered him with patient sweetness, "and there's plenty for everyone to have a treat at breakfast in the morning, which is truly the height of decadence. Although I don't think there'll be quite enough for a certain high-minded, tetchy captain."

She held a richly coated berry in front of his face for a second, then laid it on the plate with an emphatic flourish.

That was just too provoking. Mal grinned and reached around her to grab it. Inara saw the attempt and flung out her hand to block it. There were a few more feints and parries, the game escalating until Mal got a bit too rough and knocked Inara slightly off balance. She tried to grasp the counter, but her hand hit the bowl of melted chocolate, tipping it over onto her fingers.

"Tza gao!" she gasped.

"Dah bien! I'm sorry!" Mal caught her gently by the wrist. "Are you all right? It didn't burn you?"

Inara kept her hand stiff and still, obviously resisting the urge to shake it and send chocolate flying everywhere. "No, it's just--messy."

"Here."

Mal didn't know then or later what possessed him at that moment. But instead of reaching past her for the towel laying on the counter, he carefully raised her hand to his mouth and put one chocolate-coated finger between his lips.

Inara's eyes went wide. As he started to suck the chocolate away, they went wider still. He couldn't tell if she was surprised by what he was doing, or the fact that it was him doing it. Truth be told, he had surprised the hell out of himself. He could all too easily imagine one of her former clients doing this sort of--decadent thing. It wasn't his style at all.

But if she was used to it, then why was the color rising in her face, and why was that soft little keening sound coming out of her slightly parted lips?

Because it was him swirling his tongue over her finger, sucking the chocolate from her skin, doing something neither of them had ever imagined he would. It was driving her crazy. When he finished the job by gently scraping her finger with his teeth as he let it slide out of his mouth, Inara's eyes fluttered shut and she shuddered delicately all over.

He quickly put his other hand on her hip to brace her. Her eyes flew open and they stared at each other wordlessly. He could see the pulse jumping wildly in her throat, and felt his own kick up a notch in response.

There was only one thing to do, and that was to lick and suck the rest of the spilled chocolate from her other fingers, holding Inara in place as her breathing quickened. His blood was starting to run hot, and it took an awful lot of concentration to finish. When he licked the last little bit from her thumb, her eyes had gone as dark as the black.

"You missed a spot," she whispered.

He started to look down at her still-sticky hand, but she caught his chin with the other and leaned her face close to his. Then he felt the tip of her tongue on the corner of his mouth, licking away at a streak of chocolate left there from his efforts. Now he was the one shaking like a leaf in the wind, and he couldn't stop the desperate groan rising in his throat.

Inara pressed her body close to him, and he could feel the smile on her lips against his just before they opened to swallow the crazed sound he was making. The kiss deepened and lengthened. Mal wrapped his arms around her to pull her as close as he could, one hand tangled in her soft hair and the other stroking the small of her back.

Her hands were busy caressing his neck and his ass. They broke the kiss at the same time to suck in some much needed air, then went at it again, lips and tongues on fire. Mal felt Inara shift her legs this way and that as she pushed herself hard against his swelling groin. Instinctively he moved in response, trying to match her frantic rhythm. The heady scent of chocolate and strawberries was all around them, mixing with the tang of sweat and desire.

None of the possibilities that had been on Mal's mind earlier had hinted at anything like this--eating each other alive in the galley at oh-dark-thirty. He might have been well and truly lost, but he had enough sense left to realize that Inara was even further gone. They weren't kissing any more so much as panting into each other's mouth, as she continued to writhe against him. Her body was giving off more heat than a full engine burn, and she was making little sounds in her throat like a starving kitten.

Sweet son of a bitch, Mal thought. She was gonna--

She did, with a jolt that almost took him along for the fall, and near-about buckled his knees. He managed to keep a hold on her as she went limp, her head falling to his shoulder as she gasped for air. "Easy, easy now," he whispered, patting her back tenderly as the tiny tremors running through her body subsided. He'd gotten his wish, and all he wanted to do now was sweep her up in his arms and head for his bunk so they could carry on--

He shifted his grip to do so, but Inara must have sensed his intentions. She straightened up, all properly composed already, and pushed him gently away. "Go on," she said, with a smug little smile, nodding towards the foredeck hall. "I have to clean up in here and hide these till breakfast."

Mal took a deep breath, pulling himself together as he backed away carefully, his knees still a bit wobbly. "Uh, yeah. I'll just go and--wait for you." He moved to the steps, glancing back once.

Inara was already busying herself with her task, but she looked up long enough to give him another smile. Her eyes were practically glowing. "I won't be but a moment," she promised.

That was all the encouragement he needed to move quietly up the hall and drop with equal stealth into his cabin. He left the hatch latched open so she could follow quickly and close it after her with only one potentially disturbing thunk.

There were a few things do to while he waited. He'd never kept candles in here before, not even for emergencies, but Inara still liked the romantic effect. He'd gotten fond of it himself, so he lit the few unscented ones (a man had his limits, after all) that she had placed strategically around the room some weeks ago. Then he pulled the extra blanket and cushions from the end of the bed and arranged them just so on the floor, because some nights one or both them landed there when things got a mite--over-enthusiastic.

As Mal gave a cushion a final plumping-up he heard Inara's step at the top of the ladder, and smiled in anticipation. But the sound of the hatch closing seemed a long time coming, and when a smothered curse reached his ears he turned curiously to watch her unusually slow descent.

His bewilderment abruptly vanished as she came into full view and he saw the reason for her caution. She'd come down one-handed, the other tightly gripped around something small wrapped in a clean dish towel. As she stepped away from the ladder Inara slowly lifted the towel to reveal a small pitcher.

The sweet smell of warm chocolate wafted across the room.

Inara let the towel drop carelessly to the floor. She put one delicate finger into the chocolate, swirled it around, then pulled it out and put it between her lips. "Mmmmm," she murmured slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

Mal felt his knees go weak again.

Inara walked towards him, stuck her finger back in the chocolate, and said one word. "Strip."

Huh. Seemed he was on the menu after all.

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