Fic for Quiesce for Washathon
Title: Two Cents Worth
Author: tjwritter
Giftee:quiesce
Pairing: Wash/Mal
Summary: When Wash goes to Mal for advice to how to get Zoe’s attention, he gets more than he bargains for.
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,500
Warning: frottage, knife play, role playing, dub/con
A/N: quiesce, I really wanted this to be more angsty and less PWP-y…but things did not go as planned. I hope you will enjoy it. Beta read by the lovely, kinktastic redsnake05 thanks darling!
TWO CENTS WORTH
“You want advice on how to get Zoe to look at you, Hoban? To notice you? To be nice to you?” Captain Malcolm Reynolds asked, wiping his mouth and standing up from the table. Once again they found themselves the last at the dinner table.
“Please, call me Wash, and yeah, tell me, how do I get Zoe to stop giving me the evil eye,” Hoban Washburne answered.
“Lose that shirt, you look ridiculous,” the Captain said as he walked out of the kitchen.
Wash looked down at his loud, palm tree print, button down and shrugged. He liked the shirt. It reminded him of sunny beach days that he would save all year to be able to afford before flight school. After flight school there were no more sunny days, no more money, but plenty of debts to be paid and pool-hall sharks to be avoided.
But, now on this ship, alone for long periods of time with a tattooed mechanic who was always talking about the ass he had gotten throughout the galaxy, a companion who kept to herself most of the time and two old war buddies who were, or had obviously been in a sexual relationship, he didn't know who he was anymore. The captain was a mystery to Wash as well, but his second, Zoe Warren, was painfully easy to read. Her dislike for him was written in every steely stare that she threw at him.
He had no idea what he had done to anger her so, but if there was one person he could go for advice, it was the captain.
He just hoped the captain was right, he thought with a sigh as he removed the shirt and replaced it with one of his more boring t-shirts.
***
“Washburne, you really want some advice to get Zoe to look at you? To really see you?” Mal asked, looking over his shoulder as he finished the dishes.
Wash stood beside him drying what Mal handed him. That night at dinner, he had shown up without the shirt that had apparently irritated the warrior woman who fascinated him so. It was barely noticeable, but Mal was right, she hadn’t been openly hostile to him. She still ignored his obvious wit and smooth charm, so again he was willing to go to the captain for some advice. If she would just smile at him, if she would just laugh at one of his jokes, just once.
“Wash, please call me Wash. And yes, tell me what I can do to get Zoe to like me, or at the least, not hate me.”
Mal took the towel from Wash, stood up straight and dried his hands. “Shave off that there lip ferret. It’s horrendous.”
“What? Mal no! The ladies love it. I have proof…well…some ladies love it…I have some proof.”
Mal stood in front of him, close, as if studying the large strawberry blond moustache that graced Wash’s face. “No you don’t. No woman wants a man coming at them with that on their lips. It’s right frightening is what it is.”
He handed Wash back the towel and walked out the door.
Wash rubbed his moustache softly, contemplating. That couldn’t be it. Could it? He thought he looked tough with the manly bristle above his lip, fierce even. But, if it would work? If it really got her to look at him, really look at him…
He could always grow it back.
***
The next night when he showed up for dinner, he saw it. For the first time since he’d been on board, Zoe smiled. His heart stopped for a moment. It was gorgeous, silken lips and bright teeth, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she took a little bit of her bottom lip in between her teeth when she noticed him looking.
Now was his chance, now was his time to make his move, to sweep her off her…
“Hey, watch it!”
Wash blinked and then blinked again. There was soup all over Zoe’s chest and he was holding a tray that had a moment before had a loaf of bread of it, but now was empty.
“o ta ma di wo fei chang bao qian!”
“Forget it,” Zoe said curtly, wiping the soup off her vest.
Next thing Wash realized, he was touching her chest. In another time and place he would wonder how it was possibly that she could be that firm and yet fleshy too. Of course, that was before he was knocked off his chair, on his back and she was straddling him. It wasn’t nearly as amazing as he would have imagined, and he covered his face to avoid being punched there.
“You want to touch my breasts, you don’t do it by pouring scalding hot pea soup on them, got it?” She jabbed her knees into his sides and he moaned his agreement and apologies.
She got off and he closed his eyes, wishing he could disintegrate into the floor below him. He continued to lay there, eyes closed, wondering if they were hiring at Persephone’s House of Noodles, until he heard laughter, gleeful guffaws from above him. When Wash opened his eyes, he saw the Captain standing over him, his arms crossed and his head thrown back.
“That went well,” Wash said.
Mal continued to laugh. “You’re pathetic.”
Wash grunted and held up his hand for Malcolm to help him up.
“Well, you can’t say she don’t pay you no attention,” Mal said, still grinning as he helped Wash to his feet.
“Fuck off.”
“Now, why you got to talk that way? Come on. You want some real advice-” Mal started, but Wash cut him off.
“Nah, I think I’m giving up on ever getting Zoe to…to…” he stopped.
Truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. Sure, at night, in his tiny little bed, he would get a vision of her in those tight jeans with the cord tied around her leg, the knife resting against the muscle of her thigh, that man’s style shirt, sleeves rolled up and covered by a leather vest that smelled as if it still had a little of the animal clinging to it. He would imagine her dark skin with a shimmering sheen of sweat and her wildly curled hair tamed into a ponytail. Sometimes in those night time imaginings, she was even brandishing a weapon, cocking a pistol, pumping a rifle and those times he knew exactly what he wanted from her, alone in the dark, the dream of it filled all his senses.
It was during the flesh and blood daytime hours when she was real and in front of him with her eyes silently judging him, silently mocking him and silently finding him wanting that he began to fumble with his buttons and gadgets, began to malign the language with simple pleasantries and began to curse his fantastical impossibilities. What was he thinking to imagine someone like her would ever find someone like him even remotely interesting, let alone, worth getting to know? And the colder she was to him, the more ridiculous he was and even knowing it did not make it any less so. He'd never had this problem before. Sure, he'd been turned down, but he'd gotten enough play--especially after becoming a pilot--to know that he had something to offer. She just threw him off his game like no woman had ever done.
“To what?” Malcolm asked after a moment waiting for Wash to finish his sentence.
“What’s the point?”
“Oh, come on, don’t be that way. You really want to know what Zoe wants? I’m not talking about your wardrobe or lacking personal grooming, I mean really wants.”
“Yes Mal, that’s what I’ve been asking for.”
“Well, you needed to work for it. You think I give advice to someone who isn’t going to take it? But you’ve proven that you will listen and heed to my wisdom, so yes, let me tell you what she really wants.”
“Okay.”
Wash sat down on the edge of the table, suddenly hopeful again.
“She’s a strong woman, you know that. She doesn’t want someone who is going to serve her soup, or open doors for her like you’ve been doing. She can do those things for herself. She needs someone who will be strong and demanding.”
Wash looked at him, puzzled. “Demanding?”
Mal stood before him, looking as if he was searching for the right definition. He looked around the empty kitchen. “Okay, I’ll be Zoe, you be you, shouldn’t be too much of a stretch should it?”
“Huh?”
Instead of answering, Mal pushed Wash’s chest with the tip of his fingers, painfully. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Do?”
“Yeah, tell me what you want.”
“Want?”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.”
He went to back up and move away but Wash grabbed his arm. “Please, I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you want me to do."
He was trying, really he was, but he was starting to feel like he was being toyed with and it was setting him on edge.
Mal rubbed his temples as if this exercise was taxing him immensely. “Let’s try it another way. Let’s pretend you are Zoe and I’ll show you what you should do, okay?”
This time Wash looked around the empty kitchen, swallowed, and then nodded. He flipped his head back, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again he looked at Mal with disgust.
“Good. That’s a good Zoe,” Mal said.
Wash took the compliment without comment and pushed Mal away, feeling powerful for perhaps the first time in his life. He marveled at how Zoe must walk around like this all the time, what must that be like? His mind reeled, charged with the thought.
He walked toward the door, but he’d barely gone 10 yards away when Mal grabbed his arm and spun him around. Before Wash knew what was happening, Mal had his arms tightly around him and his mouth on top of Wash’s, pushing Wash’s mouth open with his tongue.
After a shocked moment of inaction, Wash pushed Mal away forcefully, wiping at his wet and bruised lips. “What the fuck?”
“You know I’ve been watching you. You know what I want. I think you want it too,” Mal said, coming back to stand in front of Wash again, his knees rubbing against Wash’s, pushing them apart.
“Mal, I’m flattered, honest, but really, I don’t play that way," he said, trying to laugh it off, but in his mind he thought, this guy is out of his gorram mind! How dare he--
“Mal? There’s no Mal here. There’s just me and there’s just you. And out here in the black, we play the game whenever and with whoever we can.”
Wash swallowed hard, Was that true? His face flushed red and hot with mixed up anger and horrifying arousal as Mal pumped his hips against Wash’s thigh before pulling at his shirt and kissing Wash again, hard. This can't be happening was all he could think, as he somewhat awkwardly, returned the kiss.
“What would Zoe do now?” Mal prodded after breaking the kiss.
Right, Wash thought, then asked himself, What would Zoe do? He closed his eyes and tried to conjur up Zoe's image, her steely glare, her hands holding her weapon with nonchalant menace. But all he could see was her over him, hitting him, digging her knees into his side. All he could hear was Mal's derisive laughter at his inadequate fumbling. He imagined them both, playing this game together, laughing at him and his weaknesses. His blood boiled.
Hooking his arms under Mal’s armpits and lifting the man effortlessly as he rose to his feet, Wash flipped Mal onto the kitchen table and straddled him, pinning Mal’s arms down with his knees. He'd never felt more alive.
Scanning the cluttered table filled with dirty dishes, spilled soup and scattered silverware, he found something promising and grasped the steak knife with a manic gleam in his eye.
Mal’s look of satisfaction instantly changed when he saw the glisten of the blade. “Wash? What are you doing?”
Wash looked at Mal squirming under him, the veins in his neck bulging with blood and strain. Wash licked his lips, as if tasting the deliciousness of being irrevocably in charge. If this was a game, he had changed all the rules.
“Who’s Wash?” he whispered, leaning into Mal's ear.
“We’re just playing. No need for violence.”
“Really?” Wash asked, twirling the knife before bringing its edge to the third button on Mal’s shirt and with the thin thread between the blade and the pad of his thumb he yanked, shooting the button across the room with a ping. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re…uh…really good at…uh…being Zoe,” Mal got out through sharp intakes of breath, Wash using the tip of the knife to spread open the fabric of his shirt and exposing the flesh beneath.
Wash adjusted his position and Mal moaned as Wash ground into his hardened cock with his own erection.
“Is this the way Zoe likes it?” Wash asked, breathing hot in Mal's ear. The power he was feeling holding the knife, pinning someone down, being Zoe, was a high he would never have imagined. My god, is this what it feels like? The blood pumped inside his body, hitting every synapsis, heightening every sensation. He licked Mal's earlobe, tasted his skin, the sweat glistening on Mal's face tingled on Wash's tongue as he trailed it along Mal's jawline.
Mal bit his lip and frotted against Wash.
Taking the knife’s point slowly from Mal’s collarbone down his chest and then back up with gentle pressure to mark him but not draw blood, Wash continued to grind against him. “Is it?”
He slid down harder on Mal’s crotch, running his tongue along the V-shaped mark he’d made with the knife. He felt Mal fight to get the use of his hands back, but Wash still held them under his knees. He never knew how strong he was before.
Mal bit his lip and pumped his hips viciously against Wash’s cock, rubbing against it as he threw his head back, as if fighting against crying out.
“Answer me,” Wash ordered. “Is this the way that Zoe likes it?”
Mal moaned loudly, head still thrown back before he answered in a whisper, “I wouldn’t know. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Wash wasn’t sure if it were his heart that had stopped or time itself. In the hours that it took to follow Mal’s eyes to the opened door of the kitchen he had swallowed repeatedly and his face was flushed and glistening with sweat.
Of course he knew who was there. Who else could it be? There she was, standing there with wide eyes and they were looking at him, really seeing him for the very first time. One hand was on her hip, the other splayed across her chest. She was biting her lower lip and Wash had the urge to go to her and bite that lip, take in his mouth and suck. Again the sense of power surge through his system. She's seeing me, the real me. He smiled wickedly and, eyes still on her, he licked Mal's lips, taking his lower one in his teeth and biting as he rocked his hips and the sensation pulled the captain over the edge he had been teetering on before.
Mal gasped loudly, balling his hands into useless fists to gain release fully. His exclamations as he came seemed to wake Zoe out of her daze, and she broke the connection of her eyes and Wash's. With flushed cheeks and an unsteady booted heel, she turned and walked away without a word. Either because of that look, or because of Wash's struggled bucking against him and his achingly hard cock, Wash came with a grunt and bonelessly fell on Mal, releasing his hold on him simultaenously.
It was a moment of not all together uncomfortable silence, where Wash tried hard not to think about what it all meant, him lying on another man, soaked in mutual ejaculations, weak from orgasm. Then he felt the vibration of Mal's chuckle.
“Well, I think that got her attention. Didn't I tell you?"
Wash groaned and rolled off Mal. Noticing the knife still in his hand, he dropped it to the floor, feeling some of the power it had elicited in him dropping with it. But only some.
“Thank you for your two cents worth, really, but I think I’ll take it from here,” Wash said, getting to his feet.
"I have no doubt. But, if you ever...you know...want to...uh...play again..."
***
He would never admit it, but Mal was right. Everything was different after that. Wash suddenly found himself invited into the crew, like he had passed a test.
No, he would never admit that Mal’s advice had worked. And when the stud muffin mechanic was replaced with Kaylee, a doe-eyed, blossom of a girl, who yes, technically got the job moments after being discovered on her back, but still gave the impression of needing protection; Wash’s first words to her were to never, ever ask the captain for advice.
But when Jayne came on board? Well, Jayne needed all the advice he could get.
Author: tjwritter
Giftee:quiesce
Pairing: Wash/Mal
Summary: When Wash goes to Mal for advice to how to get Zoe’s attention, he gets more than he bargains for.
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,500
Warning: frottage, knife play, role playing, dub/con
A/N: quiesce, I really wanted this to be more angsty and less PWP-y…but things did not go as planned. I hope you will enjoy it. Beta read by the lovely, kinktastic redsnake05 thanks darling!
TWO CENTS WORTH
“You want advice on how to get Zoe to look at you, Hoban? To notice you? To be nice to you?” Captain Malcolm Reynolds asked, wiping his mouth and standing up from the table. Once again they found themselves the last at the dinner table.
“Please, call me Wash, and yeah, tell me, how do I get Zoe to stop giving me the evil eye,” Hoban Washburne answered.
“Lose that shirt, you look ridiculous,” the Captain said as he walked out of the kitchen.
Wash looked down at his loud, palm tree print, button down and shrugged. He liked the shirt. It reminded him of sunny beach days that he would save all year to be able to afford before flight school. After flight school there were no more sunny days, no more money, but plenty of debts to be paid and pool-hall sharks to be avoided.
But, now on this ship, alone for long periods of time with a tattooed mechanic who was always talking about the ass he had gotten throughout the galaxy, a companion who kept to herself most of the time and two old war buddies who were, or had obviously been in a sexual relationship, he didn't know who he was anymore. The captain was a mystery to Wash as well, but his second, Zoe Warren, was painfully easy to read. Her dislike for him was written in every steely stare that she threw at him.
He had no idea what he had done to anger her so, but if there was one person he could go for advice, it was the captain.
He just hoped the captain was right, he thought with a sigh as he removed the shirt and replaced it with one of his more boring t-shirts.
***
“Washburne, you really want some advice to get Zoe to look at you? To really see you?” Mal asked, looking over his shoulder as he finished the dishes.
Wash stood beside him drying what Mal handed him. That night at dinner, he had shown up without the shirt that had apparently irritated the warrior woman who fascinated him so. It was barely noticeable, but Mal was right, she hadn’t been openly hostile to him. She still ignored his obvious wit and smooth charm, so again he was willing to go to the captain for some advice. If she would just smile at him, if she would just laugh at one of his jokes, just once.
“Wash, please call me Wash. And yes, tell me what I can do to get Zoe to like me, or at the least, not hate me.”
Mal took the towel from Wash, stood up straight and dried his hands. “Shave off that there lip ferret. It’s horrendous.”
“What? Mal no! The ladies love it. I have proof…well…some ladies love it…I have some proof.”
Mal stood in front of him, close, as if studying the large strawberry blond moustache that graced Wash’s face. “No you don’t. No woman wants a man coming at them with that on their lips. It’s right frightening is what it is.”
He handed Wash back the towel and walked out the door.
Wash rubbed his moustache softly, contemplating. That couldn’t be it. Could it? He thought he looked tough with the manly bristle above his lip, fierce even. But, if it would work? If it really got her to look at him, really look at him…
He could always grow it back.
***
The next night when he showed up for dinner, he saw it. For the first time since he’d been on board, Zoe smiled. His heart stopped for a moment. It was gorgeous, silken lips and bright teeth, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she took a little bit of her bottom lip in between her teeth when she noticed him looking.
Now was his chance, now was his time to make his move, to sweep her off her…
“Hey, watch it!”
Wash blinked and then blinked again. There was soup all over Zoe’s chest and he was holding a tray that had a moment before had a loaf of bread of it, but now was empty.
“o ta ma di wo fei chang bao qian!”
“Forget it,” Zoe said curtly, wiping the soup off her vest.
Next thing Wash realized, he was touching her chest. In another time and place he would wonder how it was possibly that she could be that firm and yet fleshy too. Of course, that was before he was knocked off his chair, on his back and she was straddling him. It wasn’t nearly as amazing as he would have imagined, and he covered his face to avoid being punched there.
“You want to touch my breasts, you don’t do it by pouring scalding hot pea soup on them, got it?” She jabbed her knees into his sides and he moaned his agreement and apologies.
She got off and he closed his eyes, wishing he could disintegrate into the floor below him. He continued to lay there, eyes closed, wondering if they were hiring at Persephone’s House of Noodles, until he heard laughter, gleeful guffaws from above him. When Wash opened his eyes, he saw the Captain standing over him, his arms crossed and his head thrown back.
“That went well,” Wash said.
Mal continued to laugh. “You’re pathetic.”
Wash grunted and held up his hand for Malcolm to help him up.
“Well, you can’t say she don’t pay you no attention,” Mal said, still grinning as he helped Wash to his feet.
“Fuck off.”
“Now, why you got to talk that way? Come on. You want some real advice-” Mal started, but Wash cut him off.
“Nah, I think I’m giving up on ever getting Zoe to…to…” he stopped.
Truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. Sure, at night, in his tiny little bed, he would get a vision of her in those tight jeans with the cord tied around her leg, the knife resting against the muscle of her thigh, that man’s style shirt, sleeves rolled up and covered by a leather vest that smelled as if it still had a little of the animal clinging to it. He would imagine her dark skin with a shimmering sheen of sweat and her wildly curled hair tamed into a ponytail. Sometimes in those night time imaginings, she was even brandishing a weapon, cocking a pistol, pumping a rifle and those times he knew exactly what he wanted from her, alone in the dark, the dream of it filled all his senses.
It was during the flesh and blood daytime hours when she was real and in front of him with her eyes silently judging him, silently mocking him and silently finding him wanting that he began to fumble with his buttons and gadgets, began to malign the language with simple pleasantries and began to curse his fantastical impossibilities. What was he thinking to imagine someone like her would ever find someone like him even remotely interesting, let alone, worth getting to know? And the colder she was to him, the more ridiculous he was and even knowing it did not make it any less so. He'd never had this problem before. Sure, he'd been turned down, but he'd gotten enough play--especially after becoming a pilot--to know that he had something to offer. She just threw him off his game like no woman had ever done.
“To what?” Malcolm asked after a moment waiting for Wash to finish his sentence.
“What’s the point?”
“Oh, come on, don’t be that way. You really want to know what Zoe wants? I’m not talking about your wardrobe or lacking personal grooming, I mean really wants.”
“Yes Mal, that’s what I’ve been asking for.”
“Well, you needed to work for it. You think I give advice to someone who isn’t going to take it? But you’ve proven that you will listen and heed to my wisdom, so yes, let me tell you what she really wants.”
“Okay.”
Wash sat down on the edge of the table, suddenly hopeful again.
“She’s a strong woman, you know that. She doesn’t want someone who is going to serve her soup, or open doors for her like you’ve been doing. She can do those things for herself. She needs someone who will be strong and demanding.”
Wash looked at him, puzzled. “Demanding?”
Mal stood before him, looking as if he was searching for the right definition. He looked around the empty kitchen. “Okay, I’ll be Zoe, you be you, shouldn’t be too much of a stretch should it?”
“Huh?”
Instead of answering, Mal pushed Wash’s chest with the tip of his fingers, painfully. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Do?”
“Yeah, tell me what you want.”
“Want?”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.”
He went to back up and move away but Wash grabbed his arm. “Please, I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you want me to do."
He was trying, really he was, but he was starting to feel like he was being toyed with and it was setting him on edge.
Mal rubbed his temples as if this exercise was taxing him immensely. “Let’s try it another way. Let’s pretend you are Zoe and I’ll show you what you should do, okay?”
This time Wash looked around the empty kitchen, swallowed, and then nodded. He flipped his head back, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again he looked at Mal with disgust.
“Good. That’s a good Zoe,” Mal said.
Wash took the compliment without comment and pushed Mal away, feeling powerful for perhaps the first time in his life. He marveled at how Zoe must walk around like this all the time, what must that be like? His mind reeled, charged with the thought.
He walked toward the door, but he’d barely gone 10 yards away when Mal grabbed his arm and spun him around. Before Wash knew what was happening, Mal had his arms tightly around him and his mouth on top of Wash’s, pushing Wash’s mouth open with his tongue.
After a shocked moment of inaction, Wash pushed Mal away forcefully, wiping at his wet and bruised lips. “What the fuck?”
“You know I’ve been watching you. You know what I want. I think you want it too,” Mal said, coming back to stand in front of Wash again, his knees rubbing against Wash’s, pushing them apart.
“Mal, I’m flattered, honest, but really, I don’t play that way," he said, trying to laugh it off, but in his mind he thought, this guy is out of his gorram mind! How dare he--
“Mal? There’s no Mal here. There’s just me and there’s just you. And out here in the black, we play the game whenever and with whoever we can.”
Wash swallowed hard, Was that true? His face flushed red and hot with mixed up anger and horrifying arousal as Mal pumped his hips against Wash’s thigh before pulling at his shirt and kissing Wash again, hard. This can't be happening was all he could think, as he somewhat awkwardly, returned the kiss.
“What would Zoe do now?” Mal prodded after breaking the kiss.
Right, Wash thought, then asked himself, What would Zoe do? He closed his eyes and tried to conjur up Zoe's image, her steely glare, her hands holding her weapon with nonchalant menace. But all he could see was her over him, hitting him, digging her knees into his side. All he could hear was Mal's derisive laughter at his inadequate fumbling. He imagined them both, playing this game together, laughing at him and his weaknesses. His blood boiled.
Hooking his arms under Mal’s armpits and lifting the man effortlessly as he rose to his feet, Wash flipped Mal onto the kitchen table and straddled him, pinning Mal’s arms down with his knees. He'd never felt more alive.
Scanning the cluttered table filled with dirty dishes, spilled soup and scattered silverware, he found something promising and grasped the steak knife with a manic gleam in his eye.
Mal’s look of satisfaction instantly changed when he saw the glisten of the blade. “Wash? What are you doing?”
Wash looked at Mal squirming under him, the veins in his neck bulging with blood and strain. Wash licked his lips, as if tasting the deliciousness of being irrevocably in charge. If this was a game, he had changed all the rules.
“Who’s Wash?” he whispered, leaning into Mal's ear.
“We’re just playing. No need for violence.”
“Really?” Wash asked, twirling the knife before bringing its edge to the third button on Mal’s shirt and with the thin thread between the blade and the pad of his thumb he yanked, shooting the button across the room with a ping. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re…uh…really good at…uh…being Zoe,” Mal got out through sharp intakes of breath, Wash using the tip of the knife to spread open the fabric of his shirt and exposing the flesh beneath.
Wash adjusted his position and Mal moaned as Wash ground into his hardened cock with his own erection.
“Is this the way Zoe likes it?” Wash asked, breathing hot in Mal's ear. The power he was feeling holding the knife, pinning someone down, being Zoe, was a high he would never have imagined. My god, is this what it feels like? The blood pumped inside his body, hitting every synapsis, heightening every sensation. He licked Mal's earlobe, tasted his skin, the sweat glistening on Mal's face tingled on Wash's tongue as he trailed it along Mal's jawline.
Mal bit his lip and frotted against Wash.
Taking the knife’s point slowly from Mal’s collarbone down his chest and then back up with gentle pressure to mark him but not draw blood, Wash continued to grind against him. “Is it?”
He slid down harder on Mal’s crotch, running his tongue along the V-shaped mark he’d made with the knife. He felt Mal fight to get the use of his hands back, but Wash still held them under his knees. He never knew how strong he was before.
Mal bit his lip and pumped his hips viciously against Wash’s cock, rubbing against it as he threw his head back, as if fighting against crying out.
“Answer me,” Wash ordered. “Is this the way that Zoe likes it?”
Mal moaned loudly, head still thrown back before he answered in a whisper, “I wouldn’t know. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Wash wasn’t sure if it were his heart that had stopped or time itself. In the hours that it took to follow Mal’s eyes to the opened door of the kitchen he had swallowed repeatedly and his face was flushed and glistening with sweat.
Of course he knew who was there. Who else could it be? There she was, standing there with wide eyes and they were looking at him, really seeing him for the very first time. One hand was on her hip, the other splayed across her chest. She was biting her lower lip and Wash had the urge to go to her and bite that lip, take in his mouth and suck. Again the sense of power surge through his system. She's seeing me, the real me. He smiled wickedly and, eyes still on her, he licked Mal's lips, taking his lower one in his teeth and biting as he rocked his hips and the sensation pulled the captain over the edge he had been teetering on before.
Mal gasped loudly, balling his hands into useless fists to gain release fully. His exclamations as he came seemed to wake Zoe out of her daze, and she broke the connection of her eyes and Wash's. With flushed cheeks and an unsteady booted heel, she turned and walked away without a word. Either because of that look, or because of Wash's struggled bucking against him and his achingly hard cock, Wash came with a grunt and bonelessly fell on Mal, releasing his hold on him simultaenously.
It was a moment of not all together uncomfortable silence, where Wash tried hard not to think about what it all meant, him lying on another man, soaked in mutual ejaculations, weak from orgasm. Then he felt the vibration of Mal's chuckle.
“Well, I think that got her attention. Didn't I tell you?"
Wash groaned and rolled off Mal. Noticing the knife still in his hand, he dropped it to the floor, feeling some of the power it had elicited in him dropping with it. But only some.
“Thank you for your two cents worth, really, but I think I’ll take it from here,” Wash said, getting to his feet.
"I have no doubt. But, if you ever...you know...want to...uh...play again..."
***
He would never admit it, but Mal was right. Everything was different after that. Wash suddenly found himself invited into the crew, like he had passed a test.
No, he would never admit that Mal’s advice had worked. And when the stud muffin mechanic was replaced with Kaylee, a doe-eyed, blossom of a girl, who yes, technically got the job moments after being discovered on her back, but still gave the impression of needing protection; Wash’s first words to her were to never, ever ask the captain for advice.
But when Jayne came on board? Well, Jayne needed all the advice he could get.