Fic-Tastic! :-)
Length: About 2.5 pages.
Rating: NC17.
A/N: Inspired by that Polly/Mal kiss in the recent Clogston fic. :-)
Enjoy. :-)
Survival Needs
Polly wrapped the bandages tighter.
It was strange, being on this end of medical assistance. Usually it was Mal holding her up, wrapping the gauze around a wound that wasn’t fatal enough to warrant taking up more of the Igors’ time, but was too serious to just leave to clot on its own.
This time, it was the other way around.
“How are you not dead??” Polly asked for the seventh time, at least.
Mal had barely been able to walk, but the thrust she’d taken to the ribs would have killed anyone else.
“Missed the heart,” Mal answered, tightly. Just because it hadn’t killed her, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch to be alive. She was shaking badly, and her lips were purplish.
“Are you sure you won’t let me get you a surgeon?” Polly asked, desperation edging her voice. “This is really…” but she trailed off, finding that describing ‘this’ went well beyond the limits of her vocabulary. If it had been one of the lads, she’d be trying to compose some sort of a letter home - or at least a personal note to attach to the Official Letter Home - while patching other people up. She shook her head. She didn’t have the words.
Instead, she packed another folded sheet of gauze over the wound in Mal’s chest. It was true, he had missed her heart. By about three inches, if that. The blood seeping between her ribs was deep crimson, but at least it was oozing and not spurting. Polly wondered, briefly, if Mal could bleed to death. She was desperately scared that the answer was yes. She wrapped the roll of bandages around Mal again, pulling it tight to hold the gauze in place, and kicked herself when she saw Mal wince.
“I’ll be fine in a day or two,” Mal assured her. Confident as ever, but her voice was weak and she was breathing shallowly. Polly gave her a sceptical look. “Think of it like this,” Mal suggested. “Who else would be conscious right now, let alone talking about it?” She smiled her usual lopsided grin, though it was more grimace than smirk this time.
Polly tied off the bandages.
She wrapped Mal in one of their blankets and helped her to lie down, uncomfortably, on her back.
She ran her fingers lightly through Mal’s hair, almost afraid to touch her.
“Sleep, okay?” she said, softly.
Mal took her hand.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” she murmured, kissing Polly’s fingers.
“I'm not doing a very good job,” Polly pointed out. She was a soldier, dammit, she wasn’t going to start crying over someone who wasn’t dead (thank goodness!), she just wasn’t.
Mal’s mouth quirked.
“Yes, you are.”
***
Much later, after the moon had set, Polly crept into the tent, stripping off her uniform and struggling into her nightshirt. She slipped quietly under the blanket next to Mal, hoping not to wake her.
“Glad you’re back,” said Mal’s voice, beside her, making Polly jump.
“I thought you were asleep,” she hissed.
“Waiting for you,” came the response. “I slept most of the evening, though. It was remarkably restful.”
Polly felt Mal taking her hand under the heavy wool.
“It’s healing up pretty well,” Mal went on. “I had a look when-”
“You what??”
Fingers squeezing her own in the dark.
“I had a look when I woke up. Here. Feel,” she guided Polly’s unresisting fingers to the place on her ribcage that, a few hours ago, had been oozing life. The bandages were gone. Polly could feel the hard crust of dried blood on Mal’s skin, but that was all. It wasn’t even sticky anymore.
“H-how…?”
“I heal fast, Polly.”
Polly
She was aware, very suddenly and acutely aware, of Mal’s lack of clothing. She flushed hotly in the dark, knowing full well that Mal could see her colour.
“Pol…” light fingers crept along her bare arm. Polly was turning even as Mal spoke. “I need-”
And then there was no more room for words. Polly found Mal’s mouth with her own, even as Mal wound her arms around Polly’s neck. They clung to each other in the dark, Mal pulling her closer even though she hissed through her teeth when the weight of Polly’s body touched her injured ribs.
Polly propped herself up on her elbows, kissing Mal hungrily, her mouth her neck her shoulders, everywhere. Mal’s hands were all over her, pulling the night-shirt up and off, planing her thighs, sliding over her back, tangling in her hair. Their hips fit together, moving with and against each other, their legs tangling together. Polly could feel Mal’s wetness against her skin, her own moist need slick and slipping against Mal’s thigh, the beginnings of shuddering release building in her belly.
Mal’s breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, as her hips arched and ground against Polly’s body.
“Tell me what you want,” Polly panted, her voice low and rough with need. “Hands? Mouth?” Her own hips moved to their rhythm of shared desire. “Anything.”
Mal gripped Polly’s hips, grinding herself against Polly’s thigh.
“Stay. With. Me,” she panted, her hips moving faster, pressing harder. She found Polly’s mouth, and Polly kissed her, roughly, sucking and nipping at Mal’s lower lip, her own hips pulsing and grinding, until Mal took Polly’s hand and pressed it between her shaking thighs.
Polly shifted her weight, pushing herself up, back arching, her fingers moving deftly, slipping and sliding around Mal’s drenched, swollen lips, rutting and rubbing her own throbbing clit against Mal’s slick thigh.
Mal’s fingers dug into Polly’s hips as she squirmed against her, her breath coming in gasps.
Polly felt Mal’s abdomen spasm half a dozen times before her breathing began to slow. Mal's grip loosened, her fingers brushing lightly over Polly’s own quivering abdomen, making her breath race faster. It didn’t take much more than that. Mal’s fingers slipped between Polly’s legs and, after only a few seconds, her teasing touch had pushed Polly over the edge, her whole body shuddering hard, biting her lip to keep from crying out. The muscles in her thighs jumped and twitched as the climax ripped through her.
Finally, she began to come down, her breath slowing, her body heavy with spent need. She slipped sideways, collapsing beside Mal who, still panting herself, took Polly’s hand.
“That… That was…”
“Yeah…”
For a moment, the dark was filled only with the sounds of slowing breath.
“Pol?”
“Yeah”
“Don’t let go?”
Polly’s squeezed Mal’s fingers, and shifted closer in the dark.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.
She heard Mal sigh in a way that sounded almost like relief.
“Good,” came the response. “I think… I think I need to sleep now.”
“You do that,” Polly murmured, stroking Mal’s fingers with her thumb.
She slid her arm around Mal’s body, felt Mal’s cropped hair brush against her shoulder. She fell asleep to the welcome sound of Mal breathing, steady and unhindered.
***
Well? What do you think? :-)
Rating: NC17.
A/N: Inspired by that Polly/Mal kiss in the recent Clogston fic. :-)
Enjoy. :-)
Survival Needs
Polly wrapped the bandages tighter.
It was strange, being on this end of medical assistance. Usually it was Mal holding her up, wrapping the gauze around a wound that wasn’t fatal enough to warrant taking up more of the Igors’ time, but was too serious to just leave to clot on its own.
This time, it was the other way around.
“How are you not dead??” Polly asked for the seventh time, at least.
Mal had barely been able to walk, but the thrust she’d taken to the ribs would have killed anyone else.
“Missed the heart,” Mal answered, tightly. Just because it hadn’t killed her, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch to be alive. She was shaking badly, and her lips were purplish.
“Are you sure you won’t let me get you a surgeon?” Polly asked, desperation edging her voice. “This is really…” but she trailed off, finding that describing ‘this’ went well beyond the limits of her vocabulary. If it had been one of the lads, she’d be trying to compose some sort of a letter home - or at least a personal note to attach to the Official Letter Home - while patching other people up. She shook her head. She didn’t have the words.
Instead, she packed another folded sheet of gauze over the wound in Mal’s chest. It was true, he had missed her heart. By about three inches, if that. The blood seeping between her ribs was deep crimson, but at least it was oozing and not spurting. Polly wondered, briefly, if Mal could bleed to death. She was desperately scared that the answer was yes. She wrapped the roll of bandages around Mal again, pulling it tight to hold the gauze in place, and kicked herself when she saw Mal wince.
“I’ll be fine in a day or two,” Mal assured her. Confident as ever, but her voice was weak and she was breathing shallowly. Polly gave her a sceptical look. “Think of it like this,” Mal suggested. “Who else would be conscious right now, let alone talking about it?” She smiled her usual lopsided grin, though it was more grimace than smirk this time.
Polly tied off the bandages.
She wrapped Mal in one of their blankets and helped her to lie down, uncomfortably, on her back.
She ran her fingers lightly through Mal’s hair, almost afraid to touch her.
“Sleep, okay?” she said, softly.
Mal took her hand.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” she murmured, kissing Polly’s fingers.
“I'm not doing a very good job,” Polly pointed out. She was a soldier, dammit, she wasn’t going to start crying over someone who wasn’t dead (thank goodness!), she just wasn’t.
Mal’s mouth quirked.
“Yes, you are.”
***
Much later, after the moon had set, Polly crept into the tent, stripping off her uniform and struggling into her nightshirt. She slipped quietly under the blanket next to Mal, hoping not to wake her.
“Glad you’re back,” said Mal’s voice, beside her, making Polly jump.
“I thought you were asleep,” she hissed.
“Waiting for you,” came the response. “I slept most of the evening, though. It was remarkably restful.”
Polly felt Mal taking her hand under the heavy wool.
“It’s healing up pretty well,” Mal went on. “I had a look when-”
“You what??”
Fingers squeezing her own in the dark.
“I had a look when I woke up. Here. Feel,” she guided Polly’s unresisting fingers to the place on her ribcage that, a few hours ago, had been oozing life. The bandages were gone. Polly could feel the hard crust of dried blood on Mal’s skin, but that was all. It wasn’t even sticky anymore.
“H-how…?”
“I heal fast, Polly.”
Polly
She was aware, very suddenly and acutely aware, of Mal’s lack of clothing. She flushed hotly in the dark, knowing full well that Mal could see her colour.
“Pol…” light fingers crept along her bare arm. Polly was turning even as Mal spoke. “I need-”
And then there was no more room for words. Polly found Mal’s mouth with her own, even as Mal wound her arms around Polly’s neck. They clung to each other in the dark, Mal pulling her closer even though she hissed through her teeth when the weight of Polly’s body touched her injured ribs.
Polly propped herself up on her elbows, kissing Mal hungrily, her mouth her neck her shoulders, everywhere. Mal’s hands were all over her, pulling the night-shirt up and off, planing her thighs, sliding over her back, tangling in her hair. Their hips fit together, moving with and against each other, their legs tangling together. Polly could feel Mal’s wetness against her skin, her own moist need slick and slipping against Mal’s thigh, the beginnings of shuddering release building in her belly.
Mal’s breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, as her hips arched and ground against Polly’s body.
“Tell me what you want,” Polly panted, her voice low and rough with need. “Hands? Mouth?” Her own hips moved to their rhythm of shared desire. “Anything.”
Mal gripped Polly’s hips, grinding herself against Polly’s thigh.
“Stay. With. Me,” she panted, her hips moving faster, pressing harder. She found Polly’s mouth, and Polly kissed her, roughly, sucking and nipping at Mal’s lower lip, her own hips pulsing and grinding, until Mal took Polly’s hand and pressed it between her shaking thighs.
Polly shifted her weight, pushing herself up, back arching, her fingers moving deftly, slipping and sliding around Mal’s drenched, swollen lips, rutting and rubbing her own throbbing clit against Mal’s slick thigh.
Mal’s fingers dug into Polly’s hips as she squirmed against her, her breath coming in gasps.
Polly felt Mal’s abdomen spasm half a dozen times before her breathing began to slow. Mal's grip loosened, her fingers brushing lightly over Polly’s own quivering abdomen, making her breath race faster. It didn’t take much more than that. Mal’s fingers slipped between Polly’s legs and, after only a few seconds, her teasing touch had pushed Polly over the edge, her whole body shuddering hard, biting her lip to keep from crying out. The muscles in her thighs jumped and twitched as the climax ripped through her.
Finally, she began to come down, her breath slowing, her body heavy with spent need. She slipped sideways, collapsing beside Mal who, still panting herself, took Polly’s hand.
“That… That was…”
“Yeah…”
For a moment, the dark was filled only with the sounds of slowing breath.
“Pol?”
“Yeah”
“Don’t let go?”
Polly’s squeezed Mal’s fingers, and shifted closer in the dark.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.
She heard Mal sigh in a way that sounded almost like relief.
“Good,” came the response. “I think… I think I need to sleep now.”
“You do that,” Polly murmured, stroking Mal’s fingers with her thumb.
She slid her arm around Mal’s body, felt Mal’s cropped hair brush against her shoulder. She fell asleep to the welcome sound of Mal breathing, steady and unhindered.
***
Well? What do you think? :-)