syvia
in
springkink
Wing It (Firefly, Mal/OMC, PG-13)
Title: Wing It
Author/Artist: syvia
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild groping
Word Count: 2015
Summary: The prompt really does say it all.
Author’s Note: Whoever came up with this- the prompt. Is. Awesome. Love it, loved writing it- hope you love reading it. ^^ *gives love to her betas osmandias and crimsoncookie*
Prompt: - Firefly, Captain Malcolm Reynolds/flaming OMC: Mal dreams he's a male Companion. Hilarity ensues. - "I reckon this is all just a big misunderstanding, so I'll be headin' out now.”
Something was out of place. He knew it was- but hell if he knew what it was.
Mal sat on the poofy couch-lookin' thing, arms spread over the back, leg resting on his knee, and stayed sitting, more or less at ease.
Maybe it was the room. Way more plush and fancible than he was used to. He liked it- nice, earthy tones and decorations he'd have recognized on any backwater moon as coming from Shadow- but you just didn't buy this kind of go-se when you needed fuel and spare parts and other little things like... oh, food.
The wall carving caught his eye and he put his leg down- turned on the seat to get a better look. Then he got up and walked over to it, jaw dropping slightly when he recognized it as the Wu Tihan original his mother had owned- had inherited from her father and he'd gotten who-knew-where. That was impossible. The damn thing had burned in a fire over sixteen-
"Malcolm Reynolds."
He turned, hand going to his hip automatically and finding... nothing there.
He wasn't wearing a gun. How was he not wearing a gun? How had he not realized he wasn't wearing a gun?
... what in the hell kind of pants were these?
The man at the door- tall, kinda skinny, nice clothes, groomed hair, smirking- smirking like Badger did at Zoe when she wasn't looking, swaggered a ways into the room and the door slid shut behind him.
"At last, I have you all to myself."
Mal looked around again- saw a total of two doors in the room- one clearly led to a bathroom and the other was behind his visitor, and started to think very quickly.
"It seems you do, at that." Now, if I were my gun, where would I be? Stupid question- if he were his gun, he'd be on his gorram hip. Obviously this was some other gun.
The guy's smirk got even smirkier and he stepped further inside.
"Ever since I saw you on Beaumond, I knew I had to make you mine- if only for one night. Any man who can satisfy both the Rample twins in a single day-" he closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought- whatever it was.
Mal blinked, opened his mouth and made a few noises that wanted to be words but couldn't work up the courage.
Fanty... and Mingo... satisfied.
Mal braced a hand on his hip, raised the other and held it out in a 'wait' gesture. "I'm sorry... what?"
"They still rave about you," the man purred, like some gorram cat, and took a few more steps forward.
Mal didn't realize he was backing up until he hit the couch and very unexpectedly sat down on it- then jumped back up and kept walking away.
"Satisfied- yes!" now he had it. "That job we pulled for them with the hand-painted egg things and-"
"No," the man shook his head.
"No?"
"No, Malcolm- you kept them busy all day. Now a gentleman doesn't," and there was a smirk and a small clearing of his throat before he said, "kiss," then a chuckle, "and tell- but Fanty simply isn't a gentleman, and I know very well you kept them in their bedroom for sixteen hours- and quite a bit of it with your lovely mouth on their-"
Mal started to swear very loudly and rapidly to get out of hearing the last bit.
"-biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze, and I know I've said things in the past but I don't take credits for sex!"
"Oh yes- I know that, lovey," and he was still coming closer- and Mal was still backing up, this time around the low table in front of the couch and toward the door, "and it's just darling the way you demand cash money- but as far as I'm concerned, you're worth every cent. Yet another quirk that makes you different from the rest of your ilk."
"My... ilk?"
"Companions," he said, like he was surprised Mal had to ask.
"Ohhhhhhhh." He nodded. Finally- finally the froo-froo pants and silk shirt and comfy surroundings and no gun were making sense.
Wait a minute.
What?
It was such a good question that he repeated it for everyone.
"What?"
"Not just any Companion," the guy said, like it was fact- like there wasn't any denying it. "You're known from the Core to the farthest edge of the Rim." He walked up, and Mal was still backing up and totally ignoring the door because this... this just... didn't make a lick of sense.
Companion... well-known.
Mal started to laugh. Someone was playing a joke on him. Maybe Inara was finally making good on that threat to make him walk a mile in her shoes.
"Ah-hah... that's a good one," he grinned, shook a finger at the guy. "Yeah- really funny, but I gotta be headin' out now-"
"Badger said you play hard-to-get," the guy leered, coming even closer. "I like it."
"Badger?" Anything else would have been more swearing, but he was saved by the man pressing up against him and... oh, gee, he was happy to be there. Mal clenched a hand, ready to punch the guy for getting so touchy-feely. What he said next stopped the punch dead.
"Badger, Fanty and Mingo, Adelei-"
"Niska?" he half laughed, half-shouted, "I had- I... Niska?"
"Yes- even a man like Adelei, you're willing to service- offering the wealth of your skills to the old and mentally unstable!"
Now, if having sex with the bastard would have given him a heart attack, Mal had to admit, he would have considered it.
Not... you know, seriously, but-
"I'm honored- so honored that you would have chosen me," the guy said.
"Now just hold on-"
"To what?" and then the guy was kissing him.
This would have been the perfect time to pass out- so of course it didn't happen. This kiss meant business... but it wasn't nasty business. Firm, moist but not slobbery, his hands didn't roam and he was being... courteous. Like he'd meant what he'd said about being honored- like he was waiting for Mal to act instead of just doing what he wanted. Mal was still thinking about punching him.
The guy pulled away, kept close and looked up at him, and the look in his eyes was open, oddly vulnerable and he whispered, "Take me."
Which might have been hot if he had any leanings toward menfolk. Mal stifled a laugh that he knew would have been sort of hysterical... and a giggle. The falsetto voice and hard, flat muscles pressing against him just didn't do anything to his emotional state. He felt like apologizing, which was a little weird, and yet made sense.
"Now," he murmured- the guy was still standing real close, "I understand that you're looking to me for a good time, but I-" then the guy's expression turned so damn young. Mal almost felt like he was about to tell Kaylee her daddy's socket wrench had been lost out the airlock. He just didn't feel this, but... the guy did.
That was the look in his eyes- trust. This guy was putting his trust in Mal to show him a good time, to make the experience good, and with that, Mal could sympathize. Mal didn't generally have a problem with sex, as long as both people wanted to be there. He never, ever took someone into his bed unwilling, but even when both people were happy and enjoying themselves, sometimes you were just a little too ready. Sometimes you were faster than your partner, and there had been that one time (that no one knew about nor would any find out) that he'd tried... shaving... and the girl in question had found the sight all manner of hilarious.
He had never read anything Mikey Jacoby got off the Cortex ever again.
Sometimes being intimate with someone else, no matter how much you wanted it, was not all you hoped it would be.
But if you were with a Companion, it would. That's what people paid over-the-top dollar for.
Damn. Talk about performance anxiety.
"I... ta ma de, you really have the wrong person."
The guy smiled, and thought they were still playing. "You are Malcolm Reynolds, are you not?"
"Yes. But..." when he was sure the guy wouldn't interrupt, he kept talking, "I'm not sure that means what you think it does."
"What do you mean?" now the hurt/confused puppy face was back- damnit, why was he a sucker for that look?
"What I mean is," and he wrapped an arm around the guy's shoulders and guided him to the couch-thing, "that we don't just jump right in the sack!" He got more confident, damn near cheerful as he continued. "There's traditions to be followed, sequence of events- gotta do this by the book!"
The guy nodded wisely. "The Kama Sutra."
"Yes! No. I mean- no- tea. First there's tea." Mal sat him down and put his hands on the guy's shoulders to keep him there. Tea. He'd heard something about tea once- Kaylee babbling about Inara's procedure.
Hey... Inara would probably sweet-talk him and...
"You know," Mal said, leaning close to the guy's ear, "a Companion chooses her-his... clients very carefully. I know you honor and... uphold sacred traditions as... sacredly as I do."
The guy blushed a little.
Tee wuh duh pee-goo, that line actually works. Mal straightened up, still smiling pleasantly, and headed for the kitchen area. He'd make tea- or something stronger- get the guy to talking... and... get him... drunk! Yes! Drunk enough to drop off and then he'd pretend they'd slept together the next morning. Maybe he could help things along somehow- a back rub? Those were nice- put him out like a light any time he put something out of joint and the doc had to coax it back in.
If it didn't work, hey, punching the guy was still an option.
What else could he do? What did Inara do? Hair... she had those weird finger things... incense... sex- which wasn't going to happen here.
He found the tea, hot water, teapot and cups, a fancy little tray to put them on. He assembled them slowly, thinking, vaguely aware that the guy seemed to be getting a little nervous. Mal considered trying to make him nervous enough that he forgot the whole thing, but it didn't seem... fair, somehow. He carried the tray to the table and sat down- but not too close- to the guy. Mal sat back for a second before remembering he was supposed to serve.
He smiled as the guy took his cup and raised it to his lips.
"After you're done, I'll..." ooh, hey- "wash your feet."
Then he got a shirt-full of tea as the guy- who had abruptly turned into Simon- choked and spat it out.
"You'll what?"
Mal blinked. No fancy room, no fancy clothes- just him sitting back in one of the high-backed chairs in the kitchen with... everyone staring at him.
Wuh de tyen, ah, thank you. Or not. Everyone was staring at him. He also had tea on his shirt.
"Wash your feet, Doctor," he said again, ignoring the tea. Then, in a stroke of true genius, "Zoe and I have a bet going that you're ticklish." Mal snapped his fingers. "Now here I've gone and spoiled it by telling you ahead of time."
Zoe didn't refute him, but she was smirking. So were Inara and River. Little Albatross was a mind-reader. That didn't count.
"You and Zoe have a bet going... as to whether I'm ticklish," Simon murmured, as if it were a set of symptoms in a rare new disease.
"Yes. I think you most definitely are- Zoe says not at all."
"In that case," Simon said deliberately and without hesitation, "I'm not."
Oh, the blatant favoritism.
"Not even his armpits," Kaylee chirped. Inara was still smirking.
"I guess that's a hundred credits you owe me, Sir," Zoe reported.
Mutineers, the lot of them.
Author/Artist: syvia
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild groping
Word Count: 2015
Summary: The prompt really does say it all.
Author’s Note: Whoever came up with this- the prompt. Is. Awesome. Love it, loved writing it- hope you love reading it. ^^ *gives love to her betas osmandias and crimsoncookie*
Prompt: - Firefly, Captain Malcolm Reynolds/flaming OMC: Mal dreams he's a male Companion. Hilarity ensues. - "I reckon this is all just a big misunderstanding, so I'll be headin' out now.”
Something was out of place. He knew it was- but hell if he knew what it was.
Mal sat on the poofy couch-lookin' thing, arms spread over the back, leg resting on his knee, and stayed sitting, more or less at ease.
Maybe it was the room. Way more plush and fancible than he was used to. He liked it- nice, earthy tones and decorations he'd have recognized on any backwater moon as coming from Shadow- but you just didn't buy this kind of go-se when you needed fuel and spare parts and other little things like... oh, food.
The wall carving caught his eye and he put his leg down- turned on the seat to get a better look. Then he got up and walked over to it, jaw dropping slightly when he recognized it as the Wu Tihan original his mother had owned- had inherited from her father and he'd gotten who-knew-where. That was impossible. The damn thing had burned in a fire over sixteen-
"Malcolm Reynolds."
He turned, hand going to his hip automatically and finding... nothing there.
He wasn't wearing a gun. How was he not wearing a gun? How had he not realized he wasn't wearing a gun?
... what in the hell kind of pants were these?
The man at the door- tall, kinda skinny, nice clothes, groomed hair, smirking- smirking like Badger did at Zoe when she wasn't looking, swaggered a ways into the room and the door slid shut behind him.
"At last, I have you all to myself."
Mal looked around again- saw a total of two doors in the room- one clearly led to a bathroom and the other was behind his visitor, and started to think very quickly.
"It seems you do, at that." Now, if I were my gun, where would I be? Stupid question- if he were his gun, he'd be on his gorram hip. Obviously this was some other gun.
The guy's smirk got even smirkier and he stepped further inside.
"Ever since I saw you on Beaumond, I knew I had to make you mine- if only for one night. Any man who can satisfy both the Rample twins in a single day-" he closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought- whatever it was.
Mal blinked, opened his mouth and made a few noises that wanted to be words but couldn't work up the courage.
Fanty... and Mingo... satisfied.
Mal braced a hand on his hip, raised the other and held it out in a 'wait' gesture. "I'm sorry... what?"
"They still rave about you," the man purred, like some gorram cat, and took a few more steps forward.
Mal didn't realize he was backing up until he hit the couch and very unexpectedly sat down on it- then jumped back up and kept walking away.
"Satisfied- yes!" now he had it. "That job we pulled for them with the hand-painted egg things and-"
"No," the man shook his head.
"No?"
"No, Malcolm- you kept them busy all day. Now a gentleman doesn't," and there was a smirk and a small clearing of his throat before he said, "kiss," then a chuckle, "and tell- but Fanty simply isn't a gentleman, and I know very well you kept them in their bedroom for sixteen hours- and quite a bit of it with your lovely mouth on their-"
Mal started to swear very loudly and rapidly to get out of hearing the last bit.
"-biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze, and I know I've said things in the past but I don't take credits for sex!"
"Oh yes- I know that, lovey," and he was still coming closer- and Mal was still backing up, this time around the low table in front of the couch and toward the door, "and it's just darling the way you demand cash money- but as far as I'm concerned, you're worth every cent. Yet another quirk that makes you different from the rest of your ilk."
"My... ilk?"
"Companions," he said, like he was surprised Mal had to ask.
"Ohhhhhhhh." He nodded. Finally- finally the froo-froo pants and silk shirt and comfy surroundings and no gun were making sense.
Wait a minute.
What?
It was such a good question that he repeated it for everyone.
"What?"
"Not just any Companion," the guy said, like it was fact- like there wasn't any denying it. "You're known from the Core to the farthest edge of the Rim." He walked up, and Mal was still backing up and totally ignoring the door because this... this just... didn't make a lick of sense.
Companion... well-known.
Mal started to laugh. Someone was playing a joke on him. Maybe Inara was finally making good on that threat to make him walk a mile in her shoes.
"Ah-hah... that's a good one," he grinned, shook a finger at the guy. "Yeah- really funny, but I gotta be headin' out now-"
"Badger said you play hard-to-get," the guy leered, coming even closer. "I like it."
"Badger?" Anything else would have been more swearing, but he was saved by the man pressing up against him and... oh, gee, he was happy to be there. Mal clenched a hand, ready to punch the guy for getting so touchy-feely. What he said next stopped the punch dead.
"Badger, Fanty and Mingo, Adelei-"
"Niska?" he half laughed, half-shouted, "I had- I... Niska?"
"Yes- even a man like Adelei, you're willing to service- offering the wealth of your skills to the old and mentally unstable!"
Now, if having sex with the bastard would have given him a heart attack, Mal had to admit, he would have considered it.
Not... you know, seriously, but-
"I'm honored- so honored that you would have chosen me," the guy said.
"Now just hold on-"
"To what?" and then the guy was kissing him.
This would have been the perfect time to pass out- so of course it didn't happen. This kiss meant business... but it wasn't nasty business. Firm, moist but not slobbery, his hands didn't roam and he was being... courteous. Like he'd meant what he'd said about being honored- like he was waiting for Mal to act instead of just doing what he wanted. Mal was still thinking about punching him.
The guy pulled away, kept close and looked up at him, and the look in his eyes was open, oddly vulnerable and he whispered, "Take me."
Which might have been hot if he had any leanings toward menfolk. Mal stifled a laugh that he knew would have been sort of hysterical... and a giggle. The falsetto voice and hard, flat muscles pressing against him just didn't do anything to his emotional state. He felt like apologizing, which was a little weird, and yet made sense.
"Now," he murmured- the guy was still standing real close, "I understand that you're looking to me for a good time, but I-" then the guy's expression turned so damn young. Mal almost felt like he was about to tell Kaylee her daddy's socket wrench had been lost out the airlock. He just didn't feel this, but... the guy did.
That was the look in his eyes- trust. This guy was putting his trust in Mal to show him a good time, to make the experience good, and with that, Mal could sympathize. Mal didn't generally have a problem with sex, as long as both people wanted to be there. He never, ever took someone into his bed unwilling, but even when both people were happy and enjoying themselves, sometimes you were just a little too ready. Sometimes you were faster than your partner, and there had been that one time (that no one knew about nor would any find out) that he'd tried... shaving... and the girl in question had found the sight all manner of hilarious.
He had never read anything Mikey Jacoby got off the Cortex ever again.
Sometimes being intimate with someone else, no matter how much you wanted it, was not all you hoped it would be.
But if you were with a Companion, it would. That's what people paid over-the-top dollar for.
Damn. Talk about performance anxiety.
"I... ta ma de, you really have the wrong person."
The guy smiled, and thought they were still playing. "You are Malcolm Reynolds, are you not?"
"Yes. But..." when he was sure the guy wouldn't interrupt, he kept talking, "I'm not sure that means what you think it does."
"What do you mean?" now the hurt/confused puppy face was back- damnit, why was he a sucker for that look?
"What I mean is," and he wrapped an arm around the guy's shoulders and guided him to the couch-thing, "that we don't just jump right in the sack!" He got more confident, damn near cheerful as he continued. "There's traditions to be followed, sequence of events- gotta do this by the book!"
The guy nodded wisely. "The Kama Sutra."
"Yes! No. I mean- no- tea. First there's tea." Mal sat him down and put his hands on the guy's shoulders to keep him there. Tea. He'd heard something about tea once- Kaylee babbling about Inara's procedure.
Hey... Inara would probably sweet-talk him and...
"You know," Mal said, leaning close to the guy's ear, "a Companion chooses her-his... clients very carefully. I know you honor and... uphold sacred traditions as... sacredly as I do."
The guy blushed a little.
Tee wuh duh pee-goo, that line actually works. Mal straightened up, still smiling pleasantly, and headed for the kitchen area. He'd make tea- or something stronger- get the guy to talking... and... get him... drunk! Yes! Drunk enough to drop off and then he'd pretend they'd slept together the next morning. Maybe he could help things along somehow- a back rub? Those were nice- put him out like a light any time he put something out of joint and the doc had to coax it back in.
If it didn't work, hey, punching the guy was still an option.
What else could he do? What did Inara do? Hair... she had those weird finger things... incense... sex- which wasn't going to happen here.
He found the tea, hot water, teapot and cups, a fancy little tray to put them on. He assembled them slowly, thinking, vaguely aware that the guy seemed to be getting a little nervous. Mal considered trying to make him nervous enough that he forgot the whole thing, but it didn't seem... fair, somehow. He carried the tray to the table and sat down- but not too close- to the guy. Mal sat back for a second before remembering he was supposed to serve.
He smiled as the guy took his cup and raised it to his lips.
"After you're done, I'll..." ooh, hey- "wash your feet."
Then he got a shirt-full of tea as the guy- who had abruptly turned into Simon- choked and spat it out.
"You'll what?"
Mal blinked. No fancy room, no fancy clothes- just him sitting back in one of the high-backed chairs in the kitchen with... everyone staring at him.
Wuh de tyen, ah, thank you. Or not. Everyone was staring at him. He also had tea on his shirt.
"Wash your feet, Doctor," he said again, ignoring the tea. Then, in a stroke of true genius, "Zoe and I have a bet going that you're ticklish." Mal snapped his fingers. "Now here I've gone and spoiled it by telling you ahead of time."
Zoe didn't refute him, but she was smirking. So were Inara and River. Little Albatross was a mind-reader. That didn't count.
"You and Zoe have a bet going... as to whether I'm ticklish," Simon murmured, as if it were a set of symptoms in a rare new disease.
"Yes. I think you most definitely are- Zoe says not at all."
"In that case," Simon said deliberately and without hesitation, "I'm not."
Oh, the blatant favoritism.
"Not even his armpits," Kaylee chirped. Inara was still smirking.
"I guess that's a hundred credits you owe me, Sir," Zoe reported.
Mutineers, the lot of them.