The Special Hell, it's where I'm NOT going!
Were I to write Mal/River porn it might be something like ...
*****
Title: "In the Cockpit"
"Femme100" Prompt: Wrong (?)
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Joss sure didn't make them play like this...
“I like the sounds you make, when I’m sucking on you.” Her eyes are serious, so he daren’t laugh. Wouldn’t dream of it. Just looks down into her dangerous, little face and nods weakly, unable to do much more than pant helplessly in anticipation.
“Can’t help it, darlin’. Way you do me-‘s too much for an old fellow like me.”
Girl’s faster than he is, in pretty much every possible way. Smarter an’ quicker and judging by the last week, apparently kinkier already too. Suppose she’s learned a thing or two, spyin’ about in folks’ brains the way she does.
River lives in a guiltless present, and she’s doing her damnedest to swirl Mal into it with her. Knows what she wants, and is damn sure gonna have it.
There’s no point in fighting a whirlwind of such proportions. Though his mama’s old prayer book might tell him otherwise.
She anticipates what he wants before he does, and makes him feel it, opens up the tightly locked cabinet doors where he’s been hiding predilections and desires he hasn’t even met yet.
So Mal finds himself, trousers down in the cockpit, suspenders swinging from the chair, with a delicate, luminous-eyed, fighting machine of a girl swallowing his cock while he moans and loses control.
“Gorram hell!” Mal near about shouts when she slips a slender finger in his ass, after licking it slick, big eyes trained on his all the while.
Mal knows how this must look, with his head strained back from the way she’s curling her tongue on him like he’s an ice cream cone or a lolly or something else equally inappropriate that just reminds him how she’s too young and he is a Bad Man and it’s a good thing Shepherd Book’s already gone or else he’d be in for it now.
Doesn’t matter, because one pretty, white hand is snaking up under his shirt and toying with the smattering of golden hairs at the center of his chest, while the other fucks him slyly as her mouth’s tender ministrations distract him from that fact.
Anyone could come in right now-see him churning into her lips, hands woven into soft, dark strands of girl hair, probably getting grease where it oughtn’t be, and coming coming coming with his mouth falling open wide. A silent wave of tenderness washing over him.
Yeah, that would be bad.
*****
But I am NOT doing that, I am getting things accomplished. And is there such a thing as a "quadruple-drabble"? Because I tweaked that thing that just *wasn't* into exactly 400 words anyway. And for the benefit of my flist, I have decided to title the nothing, "In the cockpit" but I don't feel like adding a header here right now. But I put one up everywhere in "public."
ETA: I suppose it might be slightly disturbing how much time I have spent contemplating what Mal's "O" face looks like. But I think I have a pretty damn good idea. *g*
*****
Title: "In the Cockpit"
"Femme100" Prompt: Wrong (?)
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Joss sure didn't make them play like this...
“I like the sounds you make, when I’m sucking on you.” Her eyes are serious, so he daren’t laugh. Wouldn’t dream of it. Just looks down into her dangerous, little face and nods weakly, unable to do much more than pant helplessly in anticipation.
“Can’t help it, darlin’. Way you do me-‘s too much for an old fellow like me.”
Girl’s faster than he is, in pretty much every possible way. Smarter an’ quicker and judging by the last week, apparently kinkier already too. Suppose she’s learned a thing or two, spyin’ about in folks’ brains the way she does.
River lives in a guiltless present, and she’s doing her damnedest to swirl Mal into it with her. Knows what she wants, and is damn sure gonna have it.
There’s no point in fighting a whirlwind of such proportions. Though his mama’s old prayer book might tell him otherwise.
She anticipates what he wants before he does, and makes him feel it, opens up the tightly locked cabinet doors where he’s been hiding predilections and desires he hasn’t even met yet.
So Mal finds himself, trousers down in the cockpit, suspenders swinging from the chair, with a delicate, luminous-eyed, fighting machine of a girl swallowing his cock while he moans and loses control.
“Gorram hell!” Mal near about shouts when she slips a slender finger in his ass, after licking it slick, big eyes trained on his all the while.
Mal knows how this must look, with his head strained back from the way she’s curling her tongue on him like he’s an ice cream cone or a lolly or something else equally inappropriate that just reminds him how she’s too young and he is a Bad Man and it’s a good thing Shepherd Book’s already gone or else he’d be in for it now.
Doesn’t matter, because one pretty, white hand is snaking up under his shirt and toying with the smattering of golden hairs at the center of his chest, while the other fucks him slyly as her mouth’s tender ministrations distract him from that fact.
Anyone could come in right now-see him churning into her lips, hands woven into soft, dark strands of girl hair, probably getting grease where it oughtn’t be, and coming coming coming with his mouth falling open wide. A silent wave of tenderness washing over him.
Yeah, that would be bad.
*****
But I am NOT doing that, I am getting things accomplished. And is there such a thing as a "quadruple-drabble"? Because I tweaked that thing that just *wasn't* into exactly 400 words anyway. And for the benefit of my flist, I have decided to title the nothing, "In the cockpit" but I don't feel like adding a header here right now. But I put one up everywhere in "public."
ETA: I suppose it might be slightly disturbing how much time I have spent contemplating what Mal's "O" face looks like. But I think I have a pretty damn good idea. *g*