Ficathon: Positive Reinforcement (NC-17)
Title: Positive Reinforcement
Author: lvs2read
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Simon/Mal
Warnings: Spoilers for the BDM
Disclaimer: Don't own it, never did, never will. Just having fun playing.
Author's Notes: For the Dom!Simon Ficathon. Written for darksybarite who wanted any other character besides Kaylee or Book, no props--all verbal, first timey, and no non-con. Hope this works for you! Immense thanks, as always, to woodsong_1978 for her awesome beta help. It's a better story because of her.
Positive Reinforcement
The whistle of incoming ordnance screaming overhead. "Everybody down! Take cover! Keep low!" The spray of dirt and flesh as it reaches its target. Numb to the horror surrounding you. Running between foxholes. Searching. Seeking. Someone's voice. Someone who doesn't belong here. "What the hell? Get down!" Pushing him down. Needing to protect him. Sudden quiet. A new noise overhead. The whine of engines as the angels leave. Shots fired from unseen weapons. The man at your side falling, unnoticed. Purplebellies with blue hands. They spot their target. Begin closing in. You grab him by the hand. "Run! Don't look back!" The Operative. Cold. Impersonal. More deaths on your head. "You're on my crew." Have to stop the madness. "I will shoot you down. Get to work." Another ship on our tail. "Don't let them catch us! Turn! Fly, damn it!" Grappler deployed. Overtaken. "Fight!" Save a bullet for him. "No! No! No!"
"Malcolm Reynolds! That is enough!" With an unexpected air of command, his lover's voice penetrated the nightmare consuming him.
Mal's eyes snapped open to see Simon looming over him. Glancing to each side he realized his wrists were captured by Simon's hands. "Simon?" he asked as he came fully awake.
"Mal." Simon looked down at him, eyes focused and face determined.
"What's goin' on?" Mal tried to move his hands, but Simon's grip remained firm, holding him to the bed.
"The better question is 'What's not going on?'" Simon was astride him, sitting on him so that he couldn't roll away.
"'K. I'll bite. What's not goin' on?" He felt Simon's grip tighten, almost imperceptibly, and he tried not to panic. Had to be the adrenaline from the dream causing the uneasiness rumbling in his gut.
"I'm not sleeping. And do you know why that is?" Simon asked, almost too calmly.
He thrust his hips upward, trying to grin as cockily as usual. "'Cause you need an itch scratched?" When Simon's eyes fluttered closed at the movement, he thought his distraction technique had worked. Until he felt the extra weight on his wrists as Simon growled and raised himself onto his knees.
"Stop that."
"Givin' me orders now, doc? Last I checked, I'm still captain of this here boat, and nobody gives orders but me." He tried again to get loose of Simon's grip, but with no success. He tended to forget how strong Simon really was since that strength was rarely used against him, but those muscles weren't just for show, as he was quickly being reminded. The uneasiness he'd been feeling increased as he struggled to no avail.
Simon's face lowered until they were almost nose-to-nose. "No, Malcolm. In this room, at this moment in time, you are not the captain and I am not a doctor. We are just two men who are both having trouble sleeping, although each for different reasons. And I mean to do something about that."
He stared into Simon's eyes, trying to regain control of his emotions, before deciding to see if he could bluff his way out of the situation he found himself in. "Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout. Was sleepin' jus' fine 'til my bedmate decided he needed to wake me up and hold me down. Gonna let me go?" He hoped he'd kept the worry out of his voice, but wasn't sure he'd entirely succeeded.
"Hmm…No, I don't think so. Not just yet, anyway. If I do, you'll just try to leave, and that's not what you need." Simon's grip loosened slightly as he sank back into a sitting position.
"What the gorramn hell do you know 'bout what I need?!" Mal ground out defensively, anger and panic warring for supremacy as he began to struggle again.
He stopped struggling when Simon stretched out on top of him, pinning him down with his body. "Shh, Mal. It's all right. I know. Shh."
As Simon peppered kisses along his jaw, and whispered in his ear, Mal's resistance faded. "You do? How?"
"Of course. The same way you know what I need sometimes." As Simon slowly sat back up, Mal felt thumbs caressing the insides of his wrists and saw tenderness clouded by anxiety in his lover's eyes. "The feelings you're having are only natural, but you have got to find a way to let go of them, or you won't be able to function as a human being, let alone as captain."
Mal might have stopped struggling, but he hadn't admitted defeat. "What feelings might those be? An' how would you be knowin' 'bout 'em?" he asked grumpily. "'Cause I sure as hell ain't mentioned any feelin's in the past few minutes."
"You didn't have to, love." As Simon continued to rub calming circles on his wrists, Mal's tension eased. "Judging from your ramblings and the way you were pushing me about while you were dreaming, I'd say you're feeling guilty about Miranda, again. Protective of me, as usual. And just a bit overwhelmed by your captain-y duties. Yes?"
Mal wouldn't meet Simon's eyes as he mumbled, "Maybe."
"Hmm? What was that? I didn't hear you." Mal heard the satisfaction in Simon's voice and knew he probably looked smug as well.
Mal sighed and looked up at him. "Said maybe."
"I thought so." Simon looked smug, just as Mal had known he would.
"So what d'you suggest I do 'bout it? Can't just let it go. Don't know how," Mal admitted reluctantly.
"Yes, you can, and I can help you, if you'll let me. Let me take care of you for once. Trust me to be there for you. Lean on me and let everything else go. Just for a little while." Mal felt the pressure on his wrists disappear as Simon brought his hands up and intertwined their fingers, smiling down at him.
"Yeah?" Mal looked up at Simon and saw nothing but love and desire shining in his eyes.
"Yes." Simon leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss. "So, are you going to let me take control, or do I have to wrest it from you against your will?" he asked, sitting up and grinning teasingly.
Mal snorted. "Like to see you try."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Really?" The hold on Mal's hands tightened as Simon leaned down again, biting Mal's lower lip before plundering his mouth, kissing him breathless. When Simon broke the kiss and sat up, Mal lay still, panting, unexpectedly aroused by Simon's display of authority. "You were saying?"
"'K. Guess you could at that, but don't have to this time." Mal relaxed as he caught his breath, squeezing Simon's fingers with his own, as he acknowledged to himself that he did need what he could trust only Simon to give him--the freedom of letting someone else take control, if only for a little while.
"Good. Because what I have in mind will work much better if you co-operate willingly." Simon leaned down to brush a soft kiss against Mal's swollen lips, sweeping his tongue lightly over the bruise he had caused moments earlier.
"An' what, exactly, did you have in mind?" Mal tried to deepen the kiss, but Simon pulled away, and since Simon was still pinning his arms to the bed, he couldn't follow.
"Just some positive reinforcement, love." Simon smiled down tenderly at Mal before continuing in a stern voice, "I'm going to let go of your hands now, but keep them on the bed. You are not to move unless I say you can. You will only speak to answer direct questions. And, most importantly, you will not come until I give you permission to do so. Dŏng má?"
Mal shivered at the note of command in Simon's voice. Even at his most doctor-y Simon had never sounded so authoritative. Made that uneasy feeling return, so he decided to test his limits. When Simon released his hands, instead of leaving them on the bed he brought them up to grasp Simon's waist. "Whatever you say, Simon," Mal grinned up at him.
Mal could see Simon bite back an answering grin at his attempt to maintain some semblance of control before his hands were taken and placed back on the bed. "I'm serious, Malcolm. You need to let go, and I can help you, but only if you trust me enough to let me. Do you?" Simon eyed him sternly as he brought his hands to rest on Mal's chest.
Mal released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he let go of the last of his reservations. "Yeah, Simon. I trust you. An' I got it. No movin'. No talkin'. And no comin' 'til you tell me to."
"That's right. Now lie still, relax, and stop thinking. Just listen and feel."
Mal closed his eyes as Simon's hands ran up his chest to his face, fingers ghosting along his lips and over his eyes, stroking his forehead and his jaw, down his neck, across his shoulders, just barely touching him, pulling one kind of tension from his body, replacing it with another, raising goosebumps on his skin, making him want. He moaned with desire as lips followed fingertips, as moist heat flicked over his skin, dipped into the hollow at the base of his throat, as teeth nipped at his ear, nibbled his throat, bit at his collarbone, marking him. When Simon's mouth pulled away from his skin, he almost whimpered. Might actually have done so if the hands had left as well.
But the hands continued moving with long, soothing caresses down his arms and torso, fingers giving short, startling pinches on his more sensitive areas. The rhythm kept alternating, sometimes slow and smooth, suddenly swift and sharp, but always tantalizing. He never knew where or what was coming next. He wanted to return caresses, to touch silky skin, to feel hard muscle beneath his hands, but was afraid Simon would stop driving him mad with longing if he moved.
"Do you like this, Mal?" Fingernails scraped lightly on his chest.
"Mmm. Hmm." All movement ceased. He opened his eyes to see Simon frowning down at him.
"You will answer me with words, Malcolm. Not sounds. Is that understood?" A rough pinch on his nipple made him jerk involuntarily.
"Yes, Simon." Gentle fingers soothed his abused nipple before Simon leaned down and whispered "Good" against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Then that mouth was surrounding his nipple, sending a spark of desire straight to his groin, his mind lost in a haze of pleasure, of want, of need. And those hands were once again roaming his body, teasing him mercilessly. Touching him everywhere but where he most needed to be touched. Made him want to beg, even as he remembered Simon telling him not to speak.
The mouth was gone and cool air blew across the damp heat left behind, making him shudder. He was lost--lost in sensation, in desire--his only anchor the voice that was talking to him.
"-colm. Malcolm. Look at me. Open your eyes."
He opened heavy eyes and looked up at Simon--his medic, his lover, his partner--and groaned. The man had never looked sexier. He didn't know why, but the aura of power radiating from Simon made him want to do everything he was asked to do, simply because it was Simon who asked.
"Stay with me, Malcolm. I need you to listen to me. Need you to answer a question." The hands were slowing down, no longer pushing him to his limits, simply there with gentle caresses, reminding him that Simon was there with him. "Malcolm. Tell me why you think we all, every one of us, went to Miranda and back with you?"
"'Cause…" He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. All his guilt and sorrow came crashing in, overwhelming him. Book. Wash. All those others. He shook his head frantically, forgetting in his grief and horror that he wasn't supposed to move. "No! No!"
Hands on the sides of his face held him still as Simon's voice murmured in his ear. "Shh, Mal. It's all right. Shh. Talk to me. Tell me why we went with you."
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Mal looked into Simon's clear blue eyes, darkened by passion. "'Cause…'cause I ordered you to." A single tear formed in the corner of his eye and slid silently down the side of his face as he tried to regain control of himself.
Simon's forehead on his brought Mal a measure of support. "No, Malcolm. We did not follow you because of orders." His head was tilted gently to the side, and then Simon's tongue was tracing the path of the tear. "We followed you because we wanted to." Simon pressed tender kisses on his eyes, his nose, his mouth, speaking softly between each kiss. "Every…one…of…us." Then he was being kissed, Simon's tongue sliding into his mouth, exploring him, while those hands returned to their former activity, turning him back into a pile of quivering need.
Suddenly, Simon's mouth was no longer there and his hands had stopped moving. Mal moaned and opened his eyes, looking up at Simon, wanting to ask why he had stopped, biting his lip to keep from speaking.
Simon's finger skimmed softly across his lip, alleviating the ache. "Don't do that, love. I don't ever want you to injure yourself. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Simon." Mal whispered hoarsely.
"Good. Now that I have your attention again, listen to me." Simon's hands began caressing him again as Simon shifted further down his body. "Are you listening, Malcolm?"
"Yeesss." His answer was more of a moan than a word.
"Very good. Something else you need to understand, Malcolm, is that what happened was…not…your…fault." Simon's hands were on his legs, teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He was trailing kisses down his chest, speaking between the kisses. It felt so gorramn good. If only Simon's hands would move farther up, cup him, stroke him. He needed it so much. He was trying so hard to hold on.
"Tell me, Malcolm, … why did we follow you?" Another pause with no touching, no kissing.
Mal panted, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to remember. "'Cause…'cause you wanted to. All of you."
"That's correct." Hands on his hips again. So close to where he wanted them. Tongue tracing his navel, plunging in. Trying hard not to move.
Whispered words against his skin. "And was what happened your fault?"
His breath came in short gasps. "No."
"Also correct." Teeth nipped at his hipbone. Lips smoothed the bite, marked him again. Hands roamed down his legs. Tension mounted.
"And why do I stay with you? Not on this ship, but with you. In this room." Lost in a haze of passion. Trying to answer. "Malcolm. Answer me. Why?"
"'Cause you lo…" Mal stumbled over the word. It couldn't be the right answer. It meant too much. It scared him. He wasn't worthy. But Simon's hand was drifting closer. Almost touching him. He groaned.
"Say it, Malcolm. I've told you often enough. You know the answer. Why do I stay with you?"
Breath coming in short, harsh gasps. Fingers twisting in the sheets. Hanging on by a thread. "'Cause you love me." At last. He was being touched where he most wanted to be, but not as hard as he needed. Featherlight strokes. Teasing him. Tormenting him. Exquisite torture.
"That's right, Mal. I…love…you." Finally. Fingers wrapped in a fist around him, pumping in time to the words being spoken. "Move if you'd like to. Come when you can." Permission given, movement allowed, thrusting up, meeting each stroke, moving faster and faster, begging for more, bellowing in release.
When Mal became aware of his surroundings again, he was being held in Simon's arms and Simon's voice was murmuring in his ear. The touch and the sound soothed him, anchoring him in the here and now, as Simon whispered words of encouragement and reassurance. Slowly, the words took form, had meaning, "…love you, Mal. I'm here for you. Let me know when you're back with me."
Soft kisses on the top of his head had Mal snuggling closer to Simon. He could hear the steady beat of Simon's heart under his ear, smell the clean, fresh scent that was unique to his lover. As his senses slowly returned, his hand drifted down Simon's smooth chest to his stomach, automatically seeking out his scar to caress it lightly before moving toward his thigh, searching for his other scar. The brush of Simon's erection against his hand made him realize that he was the only one who had found release. "'m almost back. Your turn?" he mumbled into Simon's chest.
"In a bit, love. When you've fully returned. I think you still need some convincing, so I'm going to fuck you. But only after you've rested some more."
"You are?" Mal couldn't summon the energy to be surprised; he was still trying to find his way totally back from wherever it was Simon had taken him.
"I am. Have you ever been fucked, Mal? I know you've never let me, but…" Simon's fingers were caressing his arm, soothing him, keeping him grounded.
"Once. Long time ago. Didn't enjoy it." Mal answered sleepily.
"Well, you'll enjoy it this time. I promise." Mal shivered at the assurance in Simon's voice and clung closer. "Relax now, though. We have the rest of the night." Simon's arms wrapped tightly around him as he closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Author: lvs2read
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Simon/Mal
Warnings: Spoilers for the BDM
Disclaimer: Don't own it, never did, never will. Just having fun playing.
Author's Notes: For the Dom!Simon Ficathon. Written for darksybarite who wanted any other character besides Kaylee or Book, no props--all verbal, first timey, and no non-con. Hope this works for you! Immense thanks, as always, to woodsong_1978 for her awesome beta help. It's a better story because of her.
Positive Reinforcement
The whistle of incoming ordnance screaming overhead. "Everybody down! Take cover! Keep low!" The spray of dirt and flesh as it reaches its target. Numb to the horror surrounding you. Running between foxholes. Searching. Seeking. Someone's voice. Someone who doesn't belong here. "What the hell? Get down!" Pushing him down. Needing to protect him. Sudden quiet. A new noise overhead. The whine of engines as the angels leave. Shots fired from unseen weapons. The man at your side falling, unnoticed. Purplebellies with blue hands. They spot their target. Begin closing in. You grab him by the hand. "Run! Don't look back!" The Operative. Cold. Impersonal. More deaths on your head. "You're on my crew." Have to stop the madness. "I will shoot you down. Get to work." Another ship on our tail. "Don't let them catch us! Turn! Fly, damn it!" Grappler deployed. Overtaken. "Fight!" Save a bullet for him. "No! No! No!"
"Malcolm Reynolds! That is enough!" With an unexpected air of command, his lover's voice penetrated the nightmare consuming him.
Mal's eyes snapped open to see Simon looming over him. Glancing to each side he realized his wrists were captured by Simon's hands. "Simon?" he asked as he came fully awake.
"Mal." Simon looked down at him, eyes focused and face determined.
"What's goin' on?" Mal tried to move his hands, but Simon's grip remained firm, holding him to the bed.
"The better question is 'What's not going on?'" Simon was astride him, sitting on him so that he couldn't roll away.
"'K. I'll bite. What's not goin' on?" He felt Simon's grip tighten, almost imperceptibly, and he tried not to panic. Had to be the adrenaline from the dream causing the uneasiness rumbling in his gut.
"I'm not sleeping. And do you know why that is?" Simon asked, almost too calmly.
He thrust his hips upward, trying to grin as cockily as usual. "'Cause you need an itch scratched?" When Simon's eyes fluttered closed at the movement, he thought his distraction technique had worked. Until he felt the extra weight on his wrists as Simon growled and raised himself onto his knees.
"Stop that."
"Givin' me orders now, doc? Last I checked, I'm still captain of this here boat, and nobody gives orders but me." He tried again to get loose of Simon's grip, but with no success. He tended to forget how strong Simon really was since that strength was rarely used against him, but those muscles weren't just for show, as he was quickly being reminded. The uneasiness he'd been feeling increased as he struggled to no avail.
Simon's face lowered until they were almost nose-to-nose. "No, Malcolm. In this room, at this moment in time, you are not the captain and I am not a doctor. We are just two men who are both having trouble sleeping, although each for different reasons. And I mean to do something about that."
He stared into Simon's eyes, trying to regain control of his emotions, before deciding to see if he could bluff his way out of the situation he found himself in. "Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout. Was sleepin' jus' fine 'til my bedmate decided he needed to wake me up and hold me down. Gonna let me go?" He hoped he'd kept the worry out of his voice, but wasn't sure he'd entirely succeeded.
"Hmm…No, I don't think so. Not just yet, anyway. If I do, you'll just try to leave, and that's not what you need." Simon's grip loosened slightly as he sank back into a sitting position.
"What the gorramn hell do you know 'bout what I need?!" Mal ground out defensively, anger and panic warring for supremacy as he began to struggle again.
He stopped struggling when Simon stretched out on top of him, pinning him down with his body. "Shh, Mal. It's all right. I know. Shh."
As Simon peppered kisses along his jaw, and whispered in his ear, Mal's resistance faded. "You do? How?"
"Of course. The same way you know what I need sometimes." As Simon slowly sat back up, Mal felt thumbs caressing the insides of his wrists and saw tenderness clouded by anxiety in his lover's eyes. "The feelings you're having are only natural, but you have got to find a way to let go of them, or you won't be able to function as a human being, let alone as captain."
Mal might have stopped struggling, but he hadn't admitted defeat. "What feelings might those be? An' how would you be knowin' 'bout 'em?" he asked grumpily. "'Cause I sure as hell ain't mentioned any feelin's in the past few minutes."
"You didn't have to, love." As Simon continued to rub calming circles on his wrists, Mal's tension eased. "Judging from your ramblings and the way you were pushing me about while you were dreaming, I'd say you're feeling guilty about Miranda, again. Protective of me, as usual. And just a bit overwhelmed by your captain-y duties. Yes?"
Mal wouldn't meet Simon's eyes as he mumbled, "Maybe."
"Hmm? What was that? I didn't hear you." Mal heard the satisfaction in Simon's voice and knew he probably looked smug as well.
Mal sighed and looked up at him. "Said maybe."
"I thought so." Simon looked smug, just as Mal had known he would.
"So what d'you suggest I do 'bout it? Can't just let it go. Don't know how," Mal admitted reluctantly.
"Yes, you can, and I can help you, if you'll let me. Let me take care of you for once. Trust me to be there for you. Lean on me and let everything else go. Just for a little while." Mal felt the pressure on his wrists disappear as Simon brought his hands up and intertwined their fingers, smiling down at him.
"Yeah?" Mal looked up at Simon and saw nothing but love and desire shining in his eyes.
"Yes." Simon leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss. "So, are you going to let me take control, or do I have to wrest it from you against your will?" he asked, sitting up and grinning teasingly.
Mal snorted. "Like to see you try."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Really?" The hold on Mal's hands tightened as Simon leaned down again, biting Mal's lower lip before plundering his mouth, kissing him breathless. When Simon broke the kiss and sat up, Mal lay still, panting, unexpectedly aroused by Simon's display of authority. "You were saying?"
"'K. Guess you could at that, but don't have to this time." Mal relaxed as he caught his breath, squeezing Simon's fingers with his own, as he acknowledged to himself that he did need what he could trust only Simon to give him--the freedom of letting someone else take control, if only for a little while.
"Good. Because what I have in mind will work much better if you co-operate willingly." Simon leaned down to brush a soft kiss against Mal's swollen lips, sweeping his tongue lightly over the bruise he had caused moments earlier.
"An' what, exactly, did you have in mind?" Mal tried to deepen the kiss, but Simon pulled away, and since Simon was still pinning his arms to the bed, he couldn't follow.
"Just some positive reinforcement, love." Simon smiled down tenderly at Mal before continuing in a stern voice, "I'm going to let go of your hands now, but keep them on the bed. You are not to move unless I say you can. You will only speak to answer direct questions. And, most importantly, you will not come until I give you permission to do so. Dŏng má?"
Mal shivered at the note of command in Simon's voice. Even at his most doctor-y Simon had never sounded so authoritative. Made that uneasy feeling return, so he decided to test his limits. When Simon released his hands, instead of leaving them on the bed he brought them up to grasp Simon's waist. "Whatever you say, Simon," Mal grinned up at him.
Mal could see Simon bite back an answering grin at his attempt to maintain some semblance of control before his hands were taken and placed back on the bed. "I'm serious, Malcolm. You need to let go, and I can help you, but only if you trust me enough to let me. Do you?" Simon eyed him sternly as he brought his hands to rest on Mal's chest.
Mal released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he let go of the last of his reservations. "Yeah, Simon. I trust you. An' I got it. No movin'. No talkin'. And no comin' 'til you tell me to."
"That's right. Now lie still, relax, and stop thinking. Just listen and feel."
Mal closed his eyes as Simon's hands ran up his chest to his face, fingers ghosting along his lips and over his eyes, stroking his forehead and his jaw, down his neck, across his shoulders, just barely touching him, pulling one kind of tension from his body, replacing it with another, raising goosebumps on his skin, making him want. He moaned with desire as lips followed fingertips, as moist heat flicked over his skin, dipped into the hollow at the base of his throat, as teeth nipped at his ear, nibbled his throat, bit at his collarbone, marking him. When Simon's mouth pulled away from his skin, he almost whimpered. Might actually have done so if the hands had left as well.
But the hands continued moving with long, soothing caresses down his arms and torso, fingers giving short, startling pinches on his more sensitive areas. The rhythm kept alternating, sometimes slow and smooth, suddenly swift and sharp, but always tantalizing. He never knew where or what was coming next. He wanted to return caresses, to touch silky skin, to feel hard muscle beneath his hands, but was afraid Simon would stop driving him mad with longing if he moved.
"Do you like this, Mal?" Fingernails scraped lightly on his chest.
"Mmm. Hmm." All movement ceased. He opened his eyes to see Simon frowning down at him.
"You will answer me with words, Malcolm. Not sounds. Is that understood?" A rough pinch on his nipple made him jerk involuntarily.
"Yes, Simon." Gentle fingers soothed his abused nipple before Simon leaned down and whispered "Good" against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Then that mouth was surrounding his nipple, sending a spark of desire straight to his groin, his mind lost in a haze of pleasure, of want, of need. And those hands were once again roaming his body, teasing him mercilessly. Touching him everywhere but where he most needed to be touched. Made him want to beg, even as he remembered Simon telling him not to speak.
The mouth was gone and cool air blew across the damp heat left behind, making him shudder. He was lost--lost in sensation, in desire--his only anchor the voice that was talking to him.
"-colm. Malcolm. Look at me. Open your eyes."
He opened heavy eyes and looked up at Simon--his medic, his lover, his partner--and groaned. The man had never looked sexier. He didn't know why, but the aura of power radiating from Simon made him want to do everything he was asked to do, simply because it was Simon who asked.
"Stay with me, Malcolm. I need you to listen to me. Need you to answer a question." The hands were slowing down, no longer pushing him to his limits, simply there with gentle caresses, reminding him that Simon was there with him. "Malcolm. Tell me why you think we all, every one of us, went to Miranda and back with you?"
"'Cause…" He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. All his guilt and sorrow came crashing in, overwhelming him. Book. Wash. All those others. He shook his head frantically, forgetting in his grief and horror that he wasn't supposed to move. "No! No!"
Hands on the sides of his face held him still as Simon's voice murmured in his ear. "Shh, Mal. It's all right. Shh. Talk to me. Tell me why we went with you."
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Mal looked into Simon's clear blue eyes, darkened by passion. "'Cause…'cause I ordered you to." A single tear formed in the corner of his eye and slid silently down the side of his face as he tried to regain control of himself.
Simon's forehead on his brought Mal a measure of support. "No, Malcolm. We did not follow you because of orders." His head was tilted gently to the side, and then Simon's tongue was tracing the path of the tear. "We followed you because we wanted to." Simon pressed tender kisses on his eyes, his nose, his mouth, speaking softly between each kiss. "Every…one…of…us." Then he was being kissed, Simon's tongue sliding into his mouth, exploring him, while those hands returned to their former activity, turning him back into a pile of quivering need.
Suddenly, Simon's mouth was no longer there and his hands had stopped moving. Mal moaned and opened his eyes, looking up at Simon, wanting to ask why he had stopped, biting his lip to keep from speaking.
Simon's finger skimmed softly across his lip, alleviating the ache. "Don't do that, love. I don't ever want you to injure yourself. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Simon." Mal whispered hoarsely.
"Good. Now that I have your attention again, listen to me." Simon's hands began caressing him again as Simon shifted further down his body. "Are you listening, Malcolm?"
"Yeesss." His answer was more of a moan than a word.
"Very good. Something else you need to understand, Malcolm, is that what happened was…not…your…fault." Simon's hands were on his legs, teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He was trailing kisses down his chest, speaking between the kisses. It felt so gorramn good. If only Simon's hands would move farther up, cup him, stroke him. He needed it so much. He was trying so hard to hold on.
"Tell me, Malcolm, … why did we follow you?" Another pause with no touching, no kissing.
Mal panted, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to remember. "'Cause…'cause you wanted to. All of you."
"That's correct." Hands on his hips again. So close to where he wanted them. Tongue tracing his navel, plunging in. Trying hard not to move.
Whispered words against his skin. "And was what happened your fault?"
His breath came in short gasps. "No."
"Also correct." Teeth nipped at his hipbone. Lips smoothed the bite, marked him again. Hands roamed down his legs. Tension mounted.
"And why do I stay with you? Not on this ship, but with you. In this room." Lost in a haze of passion. Trying to answer. "Malcolm. Answer me. Why?"
"'Cause you lo…" Mal stumbled over the word. It couldn't be the right answer. It meant too much. It scared him. He wasn't worthy. But Simon's hand was drifting closer. Almost touching him. He groaned.
"Say it, Malcolm. I've told you often enough. You know the answer. Why do I stay with you?"
Breath coming in short, harsh gasps. Fingers twisting in the sheets. Hanging on by a thread. "'Cause you love me." At last. He was being touched where he most wanted to be, but not as hard as he needed. Featherlight strokes. Teasing him. Tormenting him. Exquisite torture.
"That's right, Mal. I…love…you." Finally. Fingers wrapped in a fist around him, pumping in time to the words being spoken. "Move if you'd like to. Come when you can." Permission given, movement allowed, thrusting up, meeting each stroke, moving faster and faster, begging for more, bellowing in release.
When Mal became aware of his surroundings again, he was being held in Simon's arms and Simon's voice was murmuring in his ear. The touch and the sound soothed him, anchoring him in the here and now, as Simon whispered words of encouragement and reassurance. Slowly, the words took form, had meaning, "…love you, Mal. I'm here for you. Let me know when you're back with me."
Soft kisses on the top of his head had Mal snuggling closer to Simon. He could hear the steady beat of Simon's heart under his ear, smell the clean, fresh scent that was unique to his lover. As his senses slowly returned, his hand drifted down Simon's smooth chest to his stomach, automatically seeking out his scar to caress it lightly before moving toward his thigh, searching for his other scar. The brush of Simon's erection against his hand made him realize that he was the only one who had found release. "'m almost back. Your turn?" he mumbled into Simon's chest.
"In a bit, love. When you've fully returned. I think you still need some convincing, so I'm going to fuck you. But only after you've rested some more."
"You are?" Mal couldn't summon the energy to be surprised; he was still trying to find his way totally back from wherever it was Simon had taken him.
"I am. Have you ever been fucked, Mal? I know you've never let me, but…" Simon's fingers were caressing his arm, soothing him, keeping him grounded.
"Once. Long time ago. Didn't enjoy it." Mal answered sleepily.
"Well, you'll enjoy it this time. I promise." Mal shivered at the assurance in Simon's voice and clung closer. "Relax now, though. We have the rest of the night." Simon's arms wrapped tightly around him as he closed his eyes and let himself drift.