Firefly - Like Space
Title: Like Space
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters and settings referred to here are not mine, they belong to Joss. No infringement is intended and no profit is made.
Author's note: Apparently, prompts are my thing these days. This ficlet is for one at the ongoing Porn Battle, Mal/River and "stars". It's set well after the movie. Thanks to geek_mama_2 for editing!
Like Space
by Hereswith
Fourth time sneaking into his bunk, heated with hurry and need you to touch me, but he worries again, says, “Ain’t sure we should keep doing this,” distracted by doubt, and she’d climbed on top first, hitched-up dress and her panties kicked to the floor, her knees pressed into the mattress, but his hands are on her, and she didn’t put them there.
“Should too. I’m old enough, now.” It’s punctuation, when she settles, emphasis, finding a position, and his eyes roll back. “I can make my own decisions.” She bites what he yields, his lower lip, suckles at it to chide him, silly, for believing he’s bad when he’s good, wrong when he’s right where he should be, inside her and so deep, all swallowed up. “And I did.”
“Got no say in it, have I?” He bucks his hips and she chokes on a sound like a moan, quick and startled and low in her throat. “Last time I checked, I was still callin’ the shots aboard ship.”
“Captain,” she agrees. Nods and pushes up to look, sliding her palms over skin damp and soft, ridges of ribs beneath, and she likes what she sees, how he reacts, the way he feels in her head and between her legs. She smiles. “The one in command.”
“Yeah?” He tries to glare, but it fails. “Ain’t gonna let you off that easy.”
“Don’t want to be off.” It isn’t optimal, wearing her dress; she’s almost forgot, busy at work to get him naked, out of his clothes, but she promptly removes it, lets it drop. “Do you want me off?”
“Gorramned-” He breathes in hard. “Trick question.”
“Do you?”
His gaze meet hers, flares blue, and his fingers curl around her thighs. “You know I don’t, darlin’.”
She does, she brims with knowing, arches her neck, her spine, and moves on him, over him, a rise and fall and flow, and he kisses where he can reach, what he catches in passing, close to lost and beautiful like that, wide open to her.
“River,” he says, before he’s inarticulate, and it starts then, comes on her from his stroking, from the rhythm, winds her tight and trembling, and when it’s finished, she collapses against him in a sticky-sweet tangle of limbs and hair and disassembled thoughts, white on black behind her lids, like stars. Like space.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters and settings referred to here are not mine, they belong to Joss. No infringement is intended and no profit is made.
Author's note: Apparently, prompts are my thing these days. This ficlet is for one at the ongoing Porn Battle, Mal/River and "stars". It's set well after the movie. Thanks to geek_mama_2 for editing!
Like Space
by Hereswith
Fourth time sneaking into his bunk, heated with hurry and need you to touch me, but he worries again, says, “Ain’t sure we should keep doing this,” distracted by doubt, and she’d climbed on top first, hitched-up dress and her panties kicked to the floor, her knees pressed into the mattress, but his hands are on her, and she didn’t put them there.
“Should too. I’m old enough, now.” It’s punctuation, when she settles, emphasis, finding a position, and his eyes roll back. “I can make my own decisions.” She bites what he yields, his lower lip, suckles at it to chide him, silly, for believing he’s bad when he’s good, wrong when he’s right where he should be, inside her and so deep, all swallowed up. “And I did.”
“Got no say in it, have I?” He bucks his hips and she chokes on a sound like a moan, quick and startled and low in her throat. “Last time I checked, I was still callin’ the shots aboard ship.”
“Captain,” she agrees. Nods and pushes up to look, sliding her palms over skin damp and soft, ridges of ribs beneath, and she likes what she sees, how he reacts, the way he feels in her head and between her legs. She smiles. “The one in command.”
“Yeah?” He tries to glare, but it fails. “Ain’t gonna let you off that easy.”
“Don’t want to be off.” It isn’t optimal, wearing her dress; she’s almost forgot, busy at work to get him naked, out of his clothes, but she promptly removes it, lets it drop. “Do you want me off?”
“Gorramned-” He breathes in hard. “Trick question.”
“Do you?”
His gaze meet hers, flares blue, and his fingers curl around her thighs. “You know I don’t, darlin’.”
She does, she brims with knowing, arches her neck, her spine, and moves on him, over him, a rise and fall and flow, and he kisses where he can reach, what he catches in passing, close to lost and beautiful like that, wide open to her.
“River,” he says, before he’s inarticulate, and it starts then, comes on her from his stroking, from the rhythm, winds her tight and trembling, and when it’s finished, she collapses against him in a sticky-sweet tangle of limbs and hair and disassembled thoughts, white on black behind her lids, like stars. Like space.