Finest Clothing Made (Firefly, Mal/Simon)
Title: Finest Clothing Made
Author/Artist: allira_dream
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: Nothing, really.
Contents: PWP, rimming.
Word count: 900.
Summary: Mal thinks that Simon wears far too many clothes. So he obviously has to take care of that.
A/N: Written for springkink: Firefly, Mal/Simon: clothes fetish, Silk shirts under my fingers Originally for July 12, sorry for the delay!
Finest Clothing Made
The finest clothing made is a person's skin, but, of course, society demands something more than this. ~Mark Twain
The problem with Simon is that he wears so. many. gorram. layers. It's the jacket of his suit, the waistcoat that feels silky smooth underneath his hands and that almost, almost makes it seem that he can't get a good grip on.
“If you ruin it, you're paying for it, Mal,” Simon gasps.
Mal grunts, kisses him again, bite to his kiss. Simon works the buttons open before Mal tears them, but then there's also his shirt, as silky as the waistcoat, pristine white. His fingers leave marks when his hand move to Simon's waist.
“You wear too gorram much,” Mal grunts, bitting at Simon's neck, low enough that it won't show, since the last time he did and it showed, Simon refused to any of this until the mark disappeared. Jayne still laughed at that, and he could do without River eerie, calm voice explaining copulation and foreplay and why it embarrassed Simon.
“May I remind you that it was your idea?” Simon says, and he's busy with Mal's belt, which is very nice of him. Mal presses him harder against the wall, rocks against his hand when it brushes the front of his trousers and Simon curses. “Hate undercover missions, I'm a doctor, not a hun dan actor. I'm terrible at pretending to be in charge.”
Mal kisses him again to shut him up, tries to work open Simon's fancy shirt with fingers that refuse to grip as they should the buttons, so instead he too moved his hands to work open Simon's trousers, feeling Simon's groan right into his mouth, his gasp. At least his trousers fall down to his knees easy enough, his underwear as well, and Simon down right moans when Mal's hand curls around his cock.
“Fuck,” he says, sagging for a moment against the wall.
“Tryin',” Mal says, but he enjoys the sight of Simon like this, his shirt half open, legs open a flush high on his cheeks, lips bruised looking from something besides a fight, looking so gorram pretty like that. His cock hurts. “Turn around.”
“Always a gentleman,” Simon huffs but he shakes a leg free before he turns around, bracing himself against the wall, the shirt showcasing his ass and Mal's not a man who refuses anything offered freely to him like this, so he falls to his knees and, before Simon can utter more than a 'what', he spreads Simon's ass with his hands and licks a path up the crack of his ass.
Simon curses, and then moans when Mal keeps licking, needy and wanton, opening more his legs. His asshole opens easily for Mal's tongue, and he doesn't wait more than a moment or two to also press with a finger, first without any slick just to feel the tightness, then with the aid of it. He reaches forward to pump Simon's cock a couple of times and Simon calls him a couple of names that no Core-bred boy should be able to know. Mal moves away so he can laugh.
“God dammit, Mal!” Simon curses, gasping for breathing. “Stop being such a si pi yan and fuck me already!”
“Bad at givin' orders, were you?” Mal snorts, but his cock is hurting something fierce, too, so he stands up, uses more slick to his cock and then he lines behind Simon and they both moan when he pushes inside him.
His hands are tight on Simon's hips, pulling him back. It's hard and fast, Mal molding himself to Simon's back, Simon groaning and shifting to his toes with every thrust, Mal holding on tightly enough to his hips that he knows he's probably bruising Simon's pale skin. Mal loses it when he sees Simon moves a hand to jerk himself off, still bracing himself with just one arm, and it's almost too soon, or to soon by the shocked gasp Simon lets loose, by the way his arm moves faster, and before Simon can get even more uppity than he already is, Mal pushes two fingers inside him, inside the mess of slick and come and pushing hard, his other hand closing on the back of Simon's shirt, so that Simon bends his back even more, the taught line of his neck as he throws his head back, eyes closed tightly, and Simon comes with Mal's name on his lips and Mal's fingers inside his asshole.
Mal lets go of Simon's shirt, but he can see where it's ruined, how the way he held it probably popped over a few seams. Whoops.
Simon gasps and turns around, still leaning against the wall. Somehow the doc looks almost more pretty now, cock spent and Mal's come dripping down his thighs, and Mal's cock lets him know that they're gonna be interested on a repeat real soon.
Simon touches the ruins of his shirt, rising an eyebrow at Mal.
“Like I said, you are paying for it, Mal,” Simon repeats.
Well. In that case, Mal sees absolutely no reason why not make sure the shirt is completely ruined, just to make sure the credits he'll have to use will be well spent.
Author/Artist: allira_dream
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: Nothing, really.
Contents: PWP, rimming.
Word count: 900.
Summary: Mal thinks that Simon wears far too many clothes. So he obviously has to take care of that.
A/N: Written for springkink: Firefly, Mal/Simon: clothes fetish, Silk shirts under my fingers Originally for July 12, sorry for the delay!
Finest Clothing Made
The finest clothing made is a person's skin, but, of course, society demands something more than this. ~Mark Twain
The problem with Simon is that he wears so. many. gorram. layers. It's the jacket of his suit, the waistcoat that feels silky smooth underneath his hands and that almost, almost makes it seem that he can't get a good grip on.
“If you ruin it, you're paying for it, Mal,” Simon gasps.
Mal grunts, kisses him again, bite to his kiss. Simon works the buttons open before Mal tears them, but then there's also his shirt, as silky as the waistcoat, pristine white. His fingers leave marks when his hand move to Simon's waist.
“You wear too gorram much,” Mal grunts, bitting at Simon's neck, low enough that it won't show, since the last time he did and it showed, Simon refused to any of this until the mark disappeared. Jayne still laughed at that, and he could do without River eerie, calm voice explaining copulation and foreplay and why it embarrassed Simon.
“May I remind you that it was your idea?” Simon says, and he's busy with Mal's belt, which is very nice of him. Mal presses him harder against the wall, rocks against his hand when it brushes the front of his trousers and Simon curses. “Hate undercover missions, I'm a doctor, not a hun dan actor. I'm terrible at pretending to be in charge.”
Mal kisses him again to shut him up, tries to work open Simon's fancy shirt with fingers that refuse to grip as they should the buttons, so instead he too moved his hands to work open Simon's trousers, feeling Simon's groan right into his mouth, his gasp. At least his trousers fall down to his knees easy enough, his underwear as well, and Simon down right moans when Mal's hand curls around his cock.
“Fuck,” he says, sagging for a moment against the wall.
“Tryin',” Mal says, but he enjoys the sight of Simon like this, his shirt half open, legs open a flush high on his cheeks, lips bruised looking from something besides a fight, looking so gorram pretty like that. His cock hurts. “Turn around.”
“Always a gentleman,” Simon huffs but he shakes a leg free before he turns around, bracing himself against the wall, the shirt showcasing his ass and Mal's not a man who refuses anything offered freely to him like this, so he falls to his knees and, before Simon can utter more than a 'what', he spreads Simon's ass with his hands and licks a path up the crack of his ass.
Simon curses, and then moans when Mal keeps licking, needy and wanton, opening more his legs. His asshole opens easily for Mal's tongue, and he doesn't wait more than a moment or two to also press with a finger, first without any slick just to feel the tightness, then with the aid of it. He reaches forward to pump Simon's cock a couple of times and Simon calls him a couple of names that no Core-bred boy should be able to know. Mal moves away so he can laugh.
“God dammit, Mal!” Simon curses, gasping for breathing. “Stop being such a si pi yan and fuck me already!”
“Bad at givin' orders, were you?” Mal snorts, but his cock is hurting something fierce, too, so he stands up, uses more slick to his cock and then he lines behind Simon and they both moan when he pushes inside him.
His hands are tight on Simon's hips, pulling him back. It's hard and fast, Mal molding himself to Simon's back, Simon groaning and shifting to his toes with every thrust, Mal holding on tightly enough to his hips that he knows he's probably bruising Simon's pale skin. Mal loses it when he sees Simon moves a hand to jerk himself off, still bracing himself with just one arm, and it's almost too soon, or to soon by the shocked gasp Simon lets loose, by the way his arm moves faster, and before Simon can get even more uppity than he already is, Mal pushes two fingers inside him, inside the mess of slick and come and pushing hard, his other hand closing on the back of Simon's shirt, so that Simon bends his back even more, the taught line of his neck as he throws his head back, eyes closed tightly, and Simon comes with Mal's name on his lips and Mal's fingers inside his asshole.
Mal lets go of Simon's shirt, but he can see where it's ruined, how the way he held it probably popped over a few seams. Whoops.
Simon gasps and turns around, still leaning against the wall. Somehow the doc looks almost more pretty now, cock spent and Mal's come dripping down his thighs, and Mal's cock lets him know that they're gonna be interested on a repeat real soon.
Simon touches the ruins of his shirt, rising an eyebrow at Mal.
“Like I said, you are paying for it, Mal,” Simon repeats.
Well. In that case, Mal sees absolutely no reason why not make sure the shirt is completely ruined, just to make sure the credits he'll have to use will be well spent.