kissing requests: het
These are just reposts of the ficlets I left in comments in the post I made yesterday, asking for requests. I'll have some slash, and probably some odd het crossovers tomorrow.
For now...
Jack/Shannon
Jack watched Boone let himself be pushed away.
Shannon sat huddled up inside herself, arms drawn up tight against her body even if that seemed antithetical to what he knew about asthma attacks. But it wasn't antithetical to Shannon. For that reason, he was prepared to leave her alone, too. He thought it might have done her good to get Boone away from her, make her less frustrated anyway. But then he quickly saw that it didn't.
When he walked up to her tent, he stood there looking down at her silently, trying to ask without asking. Her mouth couldn't make a hard line, but her eyes did. Still, he knelt in front of her, one hand on her knee as she tried to shrink back and away.
"I know the last thing you want when you can't breathe is someone hovering. But you need to calm down. Will you let me help you?"
Eyes wide, she answered without answering.
Jack got up and moved around behind her, kneeling again. He nudged her into bending forward a little, and then he placed his palm on her back, warm and sinking into her trembling muscles. He slid his palm up until it left the damp fabric of her tank top and skimmed over her skin, until his thumb was swiping over her nape; then he retraced the movement, down past her shoulder blades, then down farther to her narrow waist. Over and over, he let his palm graze her back, over contracting ribs and shoulders scrunched up tight.
Finally, her breathing began to calm. It still sounded ragged, but she was taking slow, deliberate breaths, and her neck fell forward a little more, like she'd just let go of some heavy weight, or maybe like she'd just surrendered to it. Whatever it was, he found himself leaning into her, both hands on her now, steadied at her shoulders. He leaned and pressed a quick, soft kiss to the skin just above her tank top.
Her head whipped around, and his hands fell off her back like she'd just shocked him, or maybe like he'd shocked himself. But she wasn't angry; she just gave him the most quizzical smile as he stood and walked away.
A couple of hours later, she came down the beach to where he was standing, looking out over the water. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips, almost exactly the way he'd kissed her shoulders.
"Thanks," she said, smiling before she shoved her hands in her pockets and commenced staring out over the ocean, too.
Mal/Inara
There was a reason why Inara preferred to be gone when he was on one of his dangerous missions. That reason was actually quite simple: it made her irrational. For a moment, anyway.
It wasn't his being gone that made her insane, knowing he was in peril; it was the seeing him come back, realizing he was still in one piece and he could go on being the stubborn, crazy person he had been since the day she met him. It was true he wanted to change her, but she wondered if he knew how often she wanted to change him, at least have him in some other line of work, as long as he could still be Mal. Because, honestly? She liked Mal. Most of the time.
At any rate, she generally preferred to be well out of sight when the merry or more often not so merry band returned, caked with dust and blood and often trailing angry people in their wake. So it was a particular problem one day when he caught her off guard, waltzing into the hold several hours early and laying his gun on one of their shipping containers and sighing.
"Gorram double-crossing…" he muttered. Then he looked up and saw her sitting on the catwalk, watching the life of that small hub planet trickle by. "What the sam hell…?"
"Thought you'd be gone still," she said, making a move to stand.
He waved at her to stay. Then he ruffled his hand through his hair, sending a shower of dirt onto the floor. When he looked up at her again, he smiled, and there wasn't a hint of mischief or defensiveness in it, not for a moment, anyway, before he pulled off his boots, left them in a heap with his coat, and began thudding his way up the stairs.
Unexpectedly, he sat down beside her and let his legs dangle over, too.
After he watched what she was watching outside for a moment, he said, "This what you do while I'm gone? Sit here frettin' over me?"
"Should I?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Not today," he replied with a grin. Then he fished something out of his pocket, flashing it in front of her eyes before he pocketed it again, as if she would know it meant anything other than he had, once again, been a very successful criminal. "Admit it. You missed me."
"Not time enough for that, was there?"
He snorted, then he made a move to get up, but she didn't want him to go, so she let herself do it: she grabbed him by the bicep and pulled him around, kissing him full on the lips. He tasted of dirt and sweat, but that was easily overwhelmed by the unexpectedly sweet taste of his mouth as he parted his lips and let her deepen the kiss for a moment before she drew back with a final brush of her lips over his.
As she did so, she kept her eyes on his, which were narrowed with confusion. He didn't speak, just breathed evenly and started at her.
So she said, "This is where you say something."
"Yeah?"
"You know, like ask me what in the hell I'm doing."
He smiled, honestly one of the more adorable smiles she'd ever seen, and he had a lot. "Are you crazy?" he said. "I know how often my big mouth gets me in trouble with you. I mean, not that this is trouble. Or maybe it is. Is this-?"
She kissed him again, just for being Mal. But it did indeed work to shut him up. Once again, he let her control the kiss, but just until she drew back her lips a little and invited him to be the aggressor. Dangerous, that, because what he lacked in skill with his tongue, he made of for many times over in the way he didn't at all kiss her like he was kissing a companion, neither trying to impress her nor behaving as though he didn't care whether he did. All the intensity she normally found in his eyes and even his walk was bound up in quick, soft movements of his tongue against hers, his lips rolling thick and heavy and just wet enough against her lips, then in long, deep kisses that left her wanting air, not because she couldn't handle herself; she just couldn't handle him.
Inara pulled her lips away with a gasp, but his hands slid around her neck, holding her there so that she leaned her forehead against his, eyes closed, listening to and feeling him breathe.
He didn't say a word as he finally pulled her face back away from his, just gave her one last peck, smiled, breathed out a hard, quick sigh, and let her go. Then he thrust out his arms behind him-not to stand up but to lay back, has legs still dangling over the side.
She pressed her forehead into the bar in front of her and resisted the urge to look over at him as she made herself calm down. She might've been bewildered, except she was so amused at finding that she was capable of making some changes in the man after all, however subtle.
Because, as it turns out, Inara was capable of rendering Mal Reynolds utterly silent. But not, she thought as irrationality stretched out a little longer than a moment, out through her hands clenched around the bars and into the flushed smile on her face, without a price.
Sawyer/Sun
She came at sunset and stood in the doorway of his tent, looking not exactly meek but definitely sorry. This kind of contrition was better than her being meek, anyway, because it meant she was obviously determined to own up to what she hadn't been able two over the last three days, since this mood of hers started: that she was, indeed, one of the most stubborn and irrational people he'd ever met.
That was okay; so was he. He patted the ground beside him and waited for her to shuffle in.
The fact was, she'd been nothing short of difficult lately, and it went beyond her usual indomitable attitude. There was something wild about her right now, and even if he knew it didn't have anything to do with him, he hated to see her so unhappy, and he really hated to be on the receiving end of the snapping and glaring.
But he hated most the way she got so mopey when she finally realized she was being an asshole and needed to apologize. Really, it was enough for him to know she was sorry, without her laying her heart prostrate in his hands, as if she didn't expect he could forgive a person for being a damn sight too much like he was.
So when she sat down, cross-legged, in front of him, and she gave him a long, open look with those deep brown eyes and then opened her mouth to speak, he reached up and swept his thumb across her full bottom lip before he leaned over and kissed her.
Instantly, she clutched her arms around him, holding tightly and kissing deeply, the way she always did. She was a remarkable woman, and he liked that she was strong, but she'd probably use that strength to punch him in the arm if she knew how he sometimes didn't so much mind these apologies, because she kissed him then like she needed him.
He knew she always did; he was still working on making himself believe it.
When he broke the kiss, he bent his head down to place a kiss on her shoulder. Then he looked at her again. He said, "I know."
"Yes?"
"Always yes."
She smiled, and he marveled that he really had forgiven her. This thing that used to be so hard was so much easier for him-so easy, in fact, that he'd already done it before she sat down, before she even walked up framed by the setting sun.
~
For now...
Jack/Shannon
Jack watched Boone let himself be pushed away.
Shannon sat huddled up inside herself, arms drawn up tight against her body even if that seemed antithetical to what he knew about asthma attacks. But it wasn't antithetical to Shannon. For that reason, he was prepared to leave her alone, too. He thought it might have done her good to get Boone away from her, make her less frustrated anyway. But then he quickly saw that it didn't.
When he walked up to her tent, he stood there looking down at her silently, trying to ask without asking. Her mouth couldn't make a hard line, but her eyes did. Still, he knelt in front of her, one hand on her knee as she tried to shrink back and away.
"I know the last thing you want when you can't breathe is someone hovering. But you need to calm down. Will you let me help you?"
Eyes wide, she answered without answering.
Jack got up and moved around behind her, kneeling again. He nudged her into bending forward a little, and then he placed his palm on her back, warm and sinking into her trembling muscles. He slid his palm up until it left the damp fabric of her tank top and skimmed over her skin, until his thumb was swiping over her nape; then he retraced the movement, down past her shoulder blades, then down farther to her narrow waist. Over and over, he let his palm graze her back, over contracting ribs and shoulders scrunched up tight.
Finally, her breathing began to calm. It still sounded ragged, but she was taking slow, deliberate breaths, and her neck fell forward a little more, like she'd just let go of some heavy weight, or maybe like she'd just surrendered to it. Whatever it was, he found himself leaning into her, both hands on her now, steadied at her shoulders. He leaned and pressed a quick, soft kiss to the skin just above her tank top.
Her head whipped around, and his hands fell off her back like she'd just shocked him, or maybe like he'd shocked himself. But she wasn't angry; she just gave him the most quizzical smile as he stood and walked away.
A couple of hours later, she came down the beach to where he was standing, looking out over the water. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips, almost exactly the way he'd kissed her shoulders.
"Thanks," she said, smiling before she shoved her hands in her pockets and commenced staring out over the ocean, too.
Mal/Inara
There was a reason why Inara preferred to be gone when he was on one of his dangerous missions. That reason was actually quite simple: it made her irrational. For a moment, anyway.
It wasn't his being gone that made her insane, knowing he was in peril; it was the seeing him come back, realizing he was still in one piece and he could go on being the stubborn, crazy person he had been since the day she met him. It was true he wanted to change her, but she wondered if he knew how often she wanted to change him, at least have him in some other line of work, as long as he could still be Mal. Because, honestly? She liked Mal. Most of the time.
At any rate, she generally preferred to be well out of sight when the merry or more often not so merry band returned, caked with dust and blood and often trailing angry people in their wake. So it was a particular problem one day when he caught her off guard, waltzing into the hold several hours early and laying his gun on one of their shipping containers and sighing.
"Gorram double-crossing…" he muttered. Then he looked up and saw her sitting on the catwalk, watching the life of that small hub planet trickle by. "What the sam hell…?"
"Thought you'd be gone still," she said, making a move to stand.
He waved at her to stay. Then he ruffled his hand through his hair, sending a shower of dirt onto the floor. When he looked up at her again, he smiled, and there wasn't a hint of mischief or defensiveness in it, not for a moment, anyway, before he pulled off his boots, left them in a heap with his coat, and began thudding his way up the stairs.
Unexpectedly, he sat down beside her and let his legs dangle over, too.
After he watched what she was watching outside for a moment, he said, "This what you do while I'm gone? Sit here frettin' over me?"
"Should I?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Not today," he replied with a grin. Then he fished something out of his pocket, flashing it in front of her eyes before he pocketed it again, as if she would know it meant anything other than he had, once again, been a very successful criminal. "Admit it. You missed me."
"Not time enough for that, was there?"
He snorted, then he made a move to get up, but she didn't want him to go, so she let herself do it: she grabbed him by the bicep and pulled him around, kissing him full on the lips. He tasted of dirt and sweat, but that was easily overwhelmed by the unexpectedly sweet taste of his mouth as he parted his lips and let her deepen the kiss for a moment before she drew back with a final brush of her lips over his.
As she did so, she kept her eyes on his, which were narrowed with confusion. He didn't speak, just breathed evenly and started at her.
So she said, "This is where you say something."
"Yeah?"
"You know, like ask me what in the hell I'm doing."
He smiled, honestly one of the more adorable smiles she'd ever seen, and he had a lot. "Are you crazy?" he said. "I know how often my big mouth gets me in trouble with you. I mean, not that this is trouble. Or maybe it is. Is this-?"
She kissed him again, just for being Mal. But it did indeed work to shut him up. Once again, he let her control the kiss, but just until she drew back her lips a little and invited him to be the aggressor. Dangerous, that, because what he lacked in skill with his tongue, he made of for many times over in the way he didn't at all kiss her like he was kissing a companion, neither trying to impress her nor behaving as though he didn't care whether he did. All the intensity she normally found in his eyes and even his walk was bound up in quick, soft movements of his tongue against hers, his lips rolling thick and heavy and just wet enough against her lips, then in long, deep kisses that left her wanting air, not because she couldn't handle herself; she just couldn't handle him.
Inara pulled her lips away with a gasp, but his hands slid around her neck, holding her there so that she leaned her forehead against his, eyes closed, listening to and feeling him breathe.
He didn't say a word as he finally pulled her face back away from his, just gave her one last peck, smiled, breathed out a hard, quick sigh, and let her go. Then he thrust out his arms behind him-not to stand up but to lay back, has legs still dangling over the side.
She pressed her forehead into the bar in front of her and resisted the urge to look over at him as she made herself calm down. She might've been bewildered, except she was so amused at finding that she was capable of making some changes in the man after all, however subtle.
Because, as it turns out, Inara was capable of rendering Mal Reynolds utterly silent. But not, she thought as irrationality stretched out a little longer than a moment, out through her hands clenched around the bars and into the flushed smile on her face, without a price.
Sawyer/Sun
She came at sunset and stood in the doorway of his tent, looking not exactly meek but definitely sorry. This kind of contrition was better than her being meek, anyway, because it meant she was obviously determined to own up to what she hadn't been able two over the last three days, since this mood of hers started: that she was, indeed, one of the most stubborn and irrational people he'd ever met.
That was okay; so was he. He patted the ground beside him and waited for her to shuffle in.
The fact was, she'd been nothing short of difficult lately, and it went beyond her usual indomitable attitude. There was something wild about her right now, and even if he knew it didn't have anything to do with him, he hated to see her so unhappy, and he really hated to be on the receiving end of the snapping and glaring.
But he hated most the way she got so mopey when she finally realized she was being an asshole and needed to apologize. Really, it was enough for him to know she was sorry, without her laying her heart prostrate in his hands, as if she didn't expect he could forgive a person for being a damn sight too much like he was.
So when she sat down, cross-legged, in front of him, and she gave him a long, open look with those deep brown eyes and then opened her mouth to speak, he reached up and swept his thumb across her full bottom lip before he leaned over and kissed her.
Instantly, she clutched her arms around him, holding tightly and kissing deeply, the way she always did. She was a remarkable woman, and he liked that she was strong, but she'd probably use that strength to punch him in the arm if she knew how he sometimes didn't so much mind these apologies, because she kissed him then like she needed him.
He knew she always did; he was still working on making himself believe it.
When he broke the kiss, he bent his head down to place a kiss on her shoulder. Then he looked at her again. He said, "I know."
"Yes?"
"Always yes."
She smiled, and he marveled that he really had forgiven her. This thing that used to be so hard was so much easier for him-so easy, in fact, that he'd already done it before she sat down, before she even walked up framed by the setting sun.
~