Fic: Staking a Claim (Mal/Simon/Wash)
Finally! I so quit writing this fic! *washes hands of it*
This being for the Simon Kinkathon over at talkcrazy. It's written for lawpup, who wanted Mal/Simon (with either Jayne or Wash if I wanted), heavy bdsm (don't think I got that really) and Mal learning to submit (sorta got that).
This fic killed me.
Rated NC-17 for bondage stuff. Takes place after Serenity, where (of course) Zoe dies instead of Wash. Enjoy!
Eeps! Thanks to woodsong_1978 for the read over and the title! *HUGS*
Staking a Claim
***
Simon's not really one for public displays. He's always been private, he feels no need to share this intimacy with anyone else. Or maybe he's just selfish. He doesn't want to share the begging looks or breathy noises with anyone else. Those are for him alone and they have been for the past three months, since Wash finally gave in.
Simon had always been good at controlling his own urges. They couldn't be a master to him, not when there were other things to consider first or when giving in himself might get him shot. Considering the thing he'd wanted to give into had a wife with a hair trigger. Sometimes, though, he'd wanted nothing more than to make the smart mouthed and often childish pilot stand in a corner or drag the man over his knee for a tanning.
He'd had no clue that Zoe was already on it. Until he'd walked in on it on the bridge. Wash looked good on his knees. He looked even better with his hands trapped behind his back from his own grip, fingers so tight around his wrists that Simon could see the indents and imagine the bruises that would bloom up later on. He wondered later just how often Wash walked around with incriminating marks like that. Simon had always been afraid to look at the man too closely, afraid he'd not be able to look away again. Zoe had caught him and his desire and the next night, Simon had found himself with a willing pilot playmate.
So maybe there are times, he thinks now, when public displays aren't so bad. Really, he's just trying to justify how much he wants to discipline Wash.
Everyone is gathered for dinner. They still do, though the table always seems to be getting less crowded. Six months and still no one will take Zoe's seat. It's empty to Wash's right. Simon is on the man's left and across from them both is Mal. The captain is looking torn between blushing scarlet or erupting into anger. Wash won't stop flirting with him.
Simon wants to gag the man to stop the words flooding out of his mouth.
“But really, sir,” it's a purred out endearment if it's anything, “you don't think that I know?”
Embarrassment overrides Mal's anger for long enough that the man glances down. Shyly, demurely even. Simon forgets to say anything to Wash as he watches Mal. He can't deny the rush of attraction, the type he always gets when Mal shows himself like this. Not the hard captain that once upon a time might have scared Simon a bit, back when everything had been new and Simon couldn't tell hard from protective. Not even protective of the crew but protective of himself.
Simon doesn't need to be scared because Mal is scared enough for all of them.
He's sitting close enough to Wash that he can skate his hand over the pilot's leg, hidden from view by the table though the others are doing a good job of ignoring the three of them anyway. Wash doesn't pay attention to the warning squeeze over his knee. His falter is brief, a glance in Simon's direction. Wash knows he's acting like an ass.
Simon's hand reaches between Wash's legs instead, squeezing until Wash flinches, his words cutting off and Simon knowns he has the man's attention. “Get down to the bunk.”
The others are ignoring the play of tension between them but Mal is watching. Simon can feel the sharp gaze on him and Wash as he lets go of the pilot. Wash gets to his feet, like he's behaving but he shoots Mal a wink and Simon catches Mal looking down again from the corner of his eye. Wash is still having fun, either not believing he's about to be punished or thinking he's doing nothing wrong.
Mal's eyes are on them as they leave, Simon doesn't need to look back, he can feel the gaze burning into him and past him to Wash who leads the way. He might not need to but he ends up looking back anyway and his eyes catch immediately on Mal's, something to the expression that he can't quite read or something that his mind just can't fathom being there.
He pushes Mal from his mind as he pushes the hatch of his and Wash's bunk closed. It's got the large bed, Wash's toys, Simon's things instead of Zoe's though he knows there are still a few items here that were once hers.
Wash knows his place down here and he's sinking down to his knees as Simon turns. He looks comfortable there, right and content. Simon takes a moment to appreciate the view as he does every time. It always makes Wash preen just a bit, spread his legs and Simon already knew the man was hard. If Wash thinks for a second that Simon is going to get him off... Cheeky son of a bitch still looks too pleased with himself.
“It looks like we need to talk again on what's appropriate.”
Wash looks like he thinks on that for a second before asking formally. “May I speak?”
“If it's to explain yourself. You know better than that, than to act like that. If you were trying to make me jealous...” Then it probably worked. Simon's threat trails off, irritation getting the better of him so that he has to pause to regather. “You can explain to me and then you're not speaking for the rest of the night. Dong ma?”
Wash doesn't look phased and his smile grows as he nods. “I wanted you to notice Mal.”
*
Simon knows he's not always the most observant when it comes to people. He's always known River. And somehow Wash manages to fit with him. Now suddenly there's Mal. Who he's never looked at or let alone really noticed. Simon certainly doesn't understand the man. He thinks Mal probably doesn't understand himself, whether he's coming or going. Mal doesn't know what he wants. Wash is the one that has to point this out to him.
He leaves Wash down in the bunk, gagged and chained at the foot of the bed that Wash isn't allowed on. Sometimes, Simon needs something to hit him over the head before he'll notice it. Wash knows this and Simon allows for it. Just not in public. And Wash knows that, too. So while Wash is thinking on how to better conduct himself, Simon can think on what to do about Mal.
He needs someone, Simon. He needs someone to tell him what's what. What he wants.
Simon doesn't doubt that. But he doubts he can take on being the replacement for Zoe for two people. He doesn't realize that he's already made up his mind - or that he was even looking for Mal - until he's standing in the doorway of the bridge and watching Mal in the pilot's seat.
He thinks at first that Mal must be doing the checks for Wash, taking the pilot's absence to enjoy his ship but more than a seconds glance says that Mal isn't doing anything more than fiddling - playing - with the dinosaurs littering the console. Simon raises an eyebrow and takes a step forward.
“I didn't think I could ever sneak up on you, captain.”
He's managed it in spades this time. He catches the tossed stegosaurus in reflex and jumps at the cry Mal gives. “Gorramn it, boy,” Mal growls, on his feet in an instant to tower over Simon.
Simon doesn't back down like he used to and, now that he knows to look, he thinks he might see a flicker of uncertainty in Mal's stance. “Sorry.”
“Somethin' you wanted, doctor?” Mal doesn't look mollified but he does back off, moving to retake the pilot's seat.
Simon isn't sure how to answer the question. Honestly he doesn't know what he's doing here. There's only ideas that Wash has put into his head.
He'd like it. Having you push him around. Mal's got...buttons and you push them.
Simon's not sure how Wash thinks that's a good thing. Simon pushes Mal's buttons but it leads to Mal pushing Simon and usually with a fist. He hesitates for long enough that Mal lets out an annoyed sigh.
“Ain't seen Wash, if that's what you're looking for.”
“No. I wanted to apologize for Wash. That wasn't his place.”
Mal colors almost instantly, trying to hide it by turning his head away, looking out to the black like there's something infinitely interesting in it's depths that they haven't all seen a thousand times before. “Best you put the boy in his place, then.”
“Trust me, Mal, I have.”
The reaction is so minuscule that if Simon hadn't been watching so carefully he'd have missed it. Mal's eyes flick to his, barely seen reflection in the windscreen, and study him. Like Mal knows what Simon means by that.
He watches us. He likes the idea. He did when it was me and Zoe, as well. But we never got the chance.
Wash has wanted something like this for awhile. Since before Simon came on the scene. Simon's not sure whether to be jealous that Wash wants someone else. Or pleased that Wash still turns to him for what he needs.
He catches Mal's gaze and holds it in the reflection. For a full minute before Mal looks away again, eyes narrowing, and there's the protective anger that it took Simon nearly a year to recognize. He pushes to his feet with dismissive words. “Got things need doing, anyway.”
If Simon can't push now then he never will. He doesn't move when Mal is in front of him, eyebrow quirked in a pointed 'get the hell out of the way'. “Wait.” It might have been a plea once but now it's telling, force behind it that actually makes Mal pause.
“Asked if you need anything, just spit it out.”
Simon wishes that Mal weren't a closed book to him. He wants to know if it's anger or nerves or something else entirely that's glaring at him as he grabs hold of Mal's suspenders and uses them to pull Mal around, shoving him back against the lockers. The shock is easy to see as Mal's eyes widen.
He blocks it all out as he closes his eyes and closes his mouth over Mal's. Mal's lips are parted, about to yell or threaten, and Simon takes the advantage to plunge his tongue into Mal's mouth. He wants even more to know what Mal is thinking when the man doesn't fight him, even when Simon's hands take hold of his wrists and pin them. It seems like only seconds before Simon realizes that Mal is responding, wrists tensing under Simon's hands and Simon knows that Mal is clenching his fists. Lips moving under his and Mal is kissing him back, straining forward to get more, not get away.
Just try and I swear if he doesn't want it then you can gag me and make me sleep on the floor for a week.
Simon really should do that anyway.
*
Wash is right where Simon left him. It always sends a shiver of pleasure through Simon to see it. The cuffs wrapping his wrists in stiff leather are safety equipped, Wash could get free if he really wanted to. Or if he needed to. None of them need a pilot that's trussed up alone down in a bunk and unable to get free and fly them to safety.
It's always there at the back of Simon's mind. Wash can get free if he wants, he's just never wanted to.
Wash has heard Simon coming. He's up on his knees, hands neatly behind his back. He's bound and gagged, knees spread again, showing off his cock, hard enough to look painful and Simon can see the edges of it in his eyes. Simon won't be taking the harness off until morning. Right or wrong, Wash has still been a brat and there are far better ways to gain Simon's attention.
He can hear the hesitant sound of Mal moving down the ladder after him, knows that Wash can as well but his pilot doesn't look to the noise. He's focused on Simon and he'll stay that way until Simon gives him some cue that he can look elsewhere.
Simon ignores Mal to step forward, hand resting over the top of Wash's head, fingers running into short hair. Wash lowers his head to the pressure and Simon's fingers run down the back of his neck, over a mark at the base from the other night. A good night, though any other kind is a rarity with Wash. Simon stays silent for a long moment, contemplating Wash under his hand and listening to the side-to-side shuffling of Mal behind him.
“Mal's here,” Simon says quietly, even if Wash already knows. “You were right.” He can't see Wash's face but doesn't need to to know that Wash is grinning. Full of himself. Boy needs to be taken down a peg before this attitude snowballs out of Simon's control. “About Mal. But not anything else. You can stay down here tonight.”
The tension runs through Wash in a silent protest which Simon ignores, dropping his hand and walking away. He still hasn't looked back at Mal.
“Simon, what are you doing?”
Simon's never heard so much uncertainty from a voice before. To hear it from the captain is nearly unnatural and he has to shake his head to rid himself of the feeling. He looks back as he grabs a black cloth off the desk in the corner of the room and the sight steals his breath. Not just the expanse of Wash's naked back, head still bowed, though that would have been enough on it's own. But now with Mal standing over him. Simon's head must be swimming because he hadn't even heard Mal moving.
The captain has his hand where Simon's was, hovering, too afraid to touch. Not sure if he's allowed, a whimsical thought, maybe, but one that sends a spike of pleasure through Simon's gut. His cock still tingles from the fresh sensation of Mal's mouth on him only moments ago. Wash has definitely been right.
“Don't worry, Mal. This isn't for you.” Simon steps back to Wash, his knees brush against Wash's back. A pointed look has Mal moving his hand away and Simon loops the cloth over Wash's head, covers his eyes and ties it tightly. It probably catches in his hair but that's another discomfort that Wash is going to have to live with. He stoops down to talk by Wash's ear, lips scraping against skin and Wash visibly shudders. “You know you've been a brat, you know how to get my attention when you want it and this isn't the way. I should send you out of this room for the night.”
“Simon...”
“Shh. But you were right so you can stay down here. Right as you are. No moving, no coming, no watching. You can listen. How does that sound?” It's not really a question when Wash knows what answer to give, whatever he's actually thinking.
“Good, Simon.”
Simon's hand ruffles through Wash's hair. “Good boy.”
Mal looks like someone caught face to face with a Reaver, watching the interaction with wide eyes. Wide interested eyes. He nervously licks his lips and the sight makes Simon's cock fill. He thinks that no one has been able to get him going that quickly again without even trying.
“Ain't so keen on this, Simon.” For all Mal looks like a nervous sub, he still talks like a captain, like Simon is his medic.
“Is that so?” The hardness Simon palms between Mal's legs says otherwise. “I think you should be calling me 'sir' when we're down here.” His fingers press to Mal's lips before he can speak. “It's not a request.”
Mal is still going to protest but the words only come out as a burst of air when Simon pushes him too hard against the ladder. He can feel Mal tense, ready to fight, but a kiss stops that in it's tracks, Simon's tongue taking entrance, his hands pinning Mal's wrists down at his sides.
When Simon steps back, Mal is breathless, his gaze looks vacant. He doesn't move, slumped back against the ladder. Simon would like to think that that's all the resistance he'll get but he knows better. The doubt comes slowly back into Mal's eyes.
“Why?” Mal's gaze turns to the quiet rustle of Wash's cuffs when the pilot shifts, uncomfortable and restless.
“Because it's what I want. And I think Wash is right and it's what you want. Don't look at him.”
Mal's gaze snaps back to Simon. Simon's gaze catches on the way Mal's throat constricts around a swallow. There's a long pause before a cautious nod where Mal looks down. Thinking about Simon's cock down his throat and how good that felt.
Simon can guarantee that everything else will feel better. He might even take pity on Wash and have Mal blow him later. A gesture that's partly selfish when Simon imagines the sight. For now, Mal is his and he waits patiently for Mal to listen to his order of 'strip'.
*
Mal looks good. Simon hadn't thought he could get any better. But spread out and gagged - Mal doesn't know when to stop asking questions and he needs to learn how to trust whatever Simon is going to do next - he definitely looks better.
He's hard through it all, too. As nervous as he is, as hesitant to be the one taking orders, he stays hard and Simon doesn't have to do a gorramn thing to keep him that way. Just light touches and sharp words to correct Mal when he moves wrong or hesitates just a touch too long.
“It's just an experiment, Mal. We'll play tonight and, if you like it, you can come back for more, as much as you want.” Simon's knelt between Mal's knees, running his hands in comforting gestures up and down the man's legs. He leans down, whispering in Mal's ear, knowing that Wash will hate not being able to hear. “I know I'd like that. I know Wash would. I think he wants you to fuck him.”
Mal whimpers, he almost whines, the only thing he can do behind that gag, throat working in a way that says he's trying to push the plastic out with his tongue. Simon nips sharply just under his ear. “Stop that.”
Mal stops.
Simon rolls his eyes. “And stop glaring at me before I have to blindfold you, too.” He's sure he doesn't imagine the shudder of arousal that runs through Mal.
Minutes later the blindfold is on, Simon's cock is teasing at Mal's entrance while Mal balks and relaxes, shudders and arches. When he pushes inside, he half expects Mal to cry out but he's greeted with silence, even Mal's breath is caught. The moan he hears is from Wash, still on the floor.
Simon closes his eyes, his hips work against Mal's, ragged breaths and Wash's moans, and Simon thinks that this is his. These boys and this life. Even better when they both want to be here with him.
*
This being for the Simon Kinkathon over at talkcrazy. It's written for lawpup, who wanted Mal/Simon (with either Jayne or Wash if I wanted), heavy bdsm (don't think I got that really) and Mal learning to submit (sorta got that).
This fic killed me.
Rated NC-17 for bondage stuff. Takes place after Serenity, where (of course) Zoe dies instead of Wash. Enjoy!
Eeps! Thanks to woodsong_1978 for the read over and the title! *HUGS*
Staking a Claim
***
Simon's not really one for public displays. He's always been private, he feels no need to share this intimacy with anyone else. Or maybe he's just selfish. He doesn't want to share the begging looks or breathy noises with anyone else. Those are for him alone and they have been for the past three months, since Wash finally gave in.
Simon had always been good at controlling his own urges. They couldn't be a master to him, not when there were other things to consider first or when giving in himself might get him shot. Considering the thing he'd wanted to give into had a wife with a hair trigger. Sometimes, though, he'd wanted nothing more than to make the smart mouthed and often childish pilot stand in a corner or drag the man over his knee for a tanning.
He'd had no clue that Zoe was already on it. Until he'd walked in on it on the bridge. Wash looked good on his knees. He looked even better with his hands trapped behind his back from his own grip, fingers so tight around his wrists that Simon could see the indents and imagine the bruises that would bloom up later on. He wondered later just how often Wash walked around with incriminating marks like that. Simon had always been afraid to look at the man too closely, afraid he'd not be able to look away again. Zoe had caught him and his desire and the next night, Simon had found himself with a willing pilot playmate.
So maybe there are times, he thinks now, when public displays aren't so bad. Really, he's just trying to justify how much he wants to discipline Wash.
Everyone is gathered for dinner. They still do, though the table always seems to be getting less crowded. Six months and still no one will take Zoe's seat. It's empty to Wash's right. Simon is on the man's left and across from them both is Mal. The captain is looking torn between blushing scarlet or erupting into anger. Wash won't stop flirting with him.
Simon wants to gag the man to stop the words flooding out of his mouth.
“But really, sir,” it's a purred out endearment if it's anything, “you don't think that I know?”
Embarrassment overrides Mal's anger for long enough that the man glances down. Shyly, demurely even. Simon forgets to say anything to Wash as he watches Mal. He can't deny the rush of attraction, the type he always gets when Mal shows himself like this. Not the hard captain that once upon a time might have scared Simon a bit, back when everything had been new and Simon couldn't tell hard from protective. Not even protective of the crew but protective of himself.
Simon doesn't need to be scared because Mal is scared enough for all of them.
He's sitting close enough to Wash that he can skate his hand over the pilot's leg, hidden from view by the table though the others are doing a good job of ignoring the three of them anyway. Wash doesn't pay attention to the warning squeeze over his knee. His falter is brief, a glance in Simon's direction. Wash knows he's acting like an ass.
Simon's hand reaches between Wash's legs instead, squeezing until Wash flinches, his words cutting off and Simon knowns he has the man's attention. “Get down to the bunk.”
The others are ignoring the play of tension between them but Mal is watching. Simon can feel the sharp gaze on him and Wash as he lets go of the pilot. Wash gets to his feet, like he's behaving but he shoots Mal a wink and Simon catches Mal looking down again from the corner of his eye. Wash is still having fun, either not believing he's about to be punished or thinking he's doing nothing wrong.
Mal's eyes are on them as they leave, Simon doesn't need to look back, he can feel the gaze burning into him and past him to Wash who leads the way. He might not need to but he ends up looking back anyway and his eyes catch immediately on Mal's, something to the expression that he can't quite read or something that his mind just can't fathom being there.
He pushes Mal from his mind as he pushes the hatch of his and Wash's bunk closed. It's got the large bed, Wash's toys, Simon's things instead of Zoe's though he knows there are still a few items here that were once hers.
Wash knows his place down here and he's sinking down to his knees as Simon turns. He looks comfortable there, right and content. Simon takes a moment to appreciate the view as he does every time. It always makes Wash preen just a bit, spread his legs and Simon already knew the man was hard. If Wash thinks for a second that Simon is going to get him off... Cheeky son of a bitch still looks too pleased with himself.
“It looks like we need to talk again on what's appropriate.”
Wash looks like he thinks on that for a second before asking formally. “May I speak?”
“If it's to explain yourself. You know better than that, than to act like that. If you were trying to make me jealous...” Then it probably worked. Simon's threat trails off, irritation getting the better of him so that he has to pause to regather. “You can explain to me and then you're not speaking for the rest of the night. Dong ma?”
Wash doesn't look phased and his smile grows as he nods. “I wanted you to notice Mal.”
*
Simon knows he's not always the most observant when it comes to people. He's always known River. And somehow Wash manages to fit with him. Now suddenly there's Mal. Who he's never looked at or let alone really noticed. Simon certainly doesn't understand the man. He thinks Mal probably doesn't understand himself, whether he's coming or going. Mal doesn't know what he wants. Wash is the one that has to point this out to him.
He leaves Wash down in the bunk, gagged and chained at the foot of the bed that Wash isn't allowed on. Sometimes, Simon needs something to hit him over the head before he'll notice it. Wash knows this and Simon allows for it. Just not in public. And Wash knows that, too. So while Wash is thinking on how to better conduct himself, Simon can think on what to do about Mal.
He needs someone, Simon. He needs someone to tell him what's what. What he wants.
Simon doesn't doubt that. But he doubts he can take on being the replacement for Zoe for two people. He doesn't realize that he's already made up his mind - or that he was even looking for Mal - until he's standing in the doorway of the bridge and watching Mal in the pilot's seat.
He thinks at first that Mal must be doing the checks for Wash, taking the pilot's absence to enjoy his ship but more than a seconds glance says that Mal isn't doing anything more than fiddling - playing - with the dinosaurs littering the console. Simon raises an eyebrow and takes a step forward.
“I didn't think I could ever sneak up on you, captain.”
He's managed it in spades this time. He catches the tossed stegosaurus in reflex and jumps at the cry Mal gives. “Gorramn it, boy,” Mal growls, on his feet in an instant to tower over Simon.
Simon doesn't back down like he used to and, now that he knows to look, he thinks he might see a flicker of uncertainty in Mal's stance. “Sorry.”
“Somethin' you wanted, doctor?” Mal doesn't look mollified but he does back off, moving to retake the pilot's seat.
Simon isn't sure how to answer the question. Honestly he doesn't know what he's doing here. There's only ideas that Wash has put into his head.
He'd like it. Having you push him around. Mal's got...buttons and you push them.
Simon's not sure how Wash thinks that's a good thing. Simon pushes Mal's buttons but it leads to Mal pushing Simon and usually with a fist. He hesitates for long enough that Mal lets out an annoyed sigh.
“Ain't seen Wash, if that's what you're looking for.”
“No. I wanted to apologize for Wash. That wasn't his place.”
Mal colors almost instantly, trying to hide it by turning his head away, looking out to the black like there's something infinitely interesting in it's depths that they haven't all seen a thousand times before. “Best you put the boy in his place, then.”
“Trust me, Mal, I have.”
The reaction is so minuscule that if Simon hadn't been watching so carefully he'd have missed it. Mal's eyes flick to his, barely seen reflection in the windscreen, and study him. Like Mal knows what Simon means by that.
He watches us. He likes the idea. He did when it was me and Zoe, as well. But we never got the chance.
Wash has wanted something like this for awhile. Since before Simon came on the scene. Simon's not sure whether to be jealous that Wash wants someone else. Or pleased that Wash still turns to him for what he needs.
He catches Mal's gaze and holds it in the reflection. For a full minute before Mal looks away again, eyes narrowing, and there's the protective anger that it took Simon nearly a year to recognize. He pushes to his feet with dismissive words. “Got things need doing, anyway.”
If Simon can't push now then he never will. He doesn't move when Mal is in front of him, eyebrow quirked in a pointed 'get the hell out of the way'. “Wait.” It might have been a plea once but now it's telling, force behind it that actually makes Mal pause.
“Asked if you need anything, just spit it out.”
Simon wishes that Mal weren't a closed book to him. He wants to know if it's anger or nerves or something else entirely that's glaring at him as he grabs hold of Mal's suspenders and uses them to pull Mal around, shoving him back against the lockers. The shock is easy to see as Mal's eyes widen.
He blocks it all out as he closes his eyes and closes his mouth over Mal's. Mal's lips are parted, about to yell or threaten, and Simon takes the advantage to plunge his tongue into Mal's mouth. He wants even more to know what Mal is thinking when the man doesn't fight him, even when Simon's hands take hold of his wrists and pin them. It seems like only seconds before Simon realizes that Mal is responding, wrists tensing under Simon's hands and Simon knows that Mal is clenching his fists. Lips moving under his and Mal is kissing him back, straining forward to get more, not get away.
Just try and I swear if he doesn't want it then you can gag me and make me sleep on the floor for a week.
Simon really should do that anyway.
*
Wash is right where Simon left him. It always sends a shiver of pleasure through Simon to see it. The cuffs wrapping his wrists in stiff leather are safety equipped, Wash could get free if he really wanted to. Or if he needed to. None of them need a pilot that's trussed up alone down in a bunk and unable to get free and fly them to safety.
It's always there at the back of Simon's mind. Wash can get free if he wants, he's just never wanted to.
Wash has heard Simon coming. He's up on his knees, hands neatly behind his back. He's bound and gagged, knees spread again, showing off his cock, hard enough to look painful and Simon can see the edges of it in his eyes. Simon won't be taking the harness off until morning. Right or wrong, Wash has still been a brat and there are far better ways to gain Simon's attention.
He can hear the hesitant sound of Mal moving down the ladder after him, knows that Wash can as well but his pilot doesn't look to the noise. He's focused on Simon and he'll stay that way until Simon gives him some cue that he can look elsewhere.
Simon ignores Mal to step forward, hand resting over the top of Wash's head, fingers running into short hair. Wash lowers his head to the pressure and Simon's fingers run down the back of his neck, over a mark at the base from the other night. A good night, though any other kind is a rarity with Wash. Simon stays silent for a long moment, contemplating Wash under his hand and listening to the side-to-side shuffling of Mal behind him.
“Mal's here,” Simon says quietly, even if Wash already knows. “You were right.” He can't see Wash's face but doesn't need to to know that Wash is grinning. Full of himself. Boy needs to be taken down a peg before this attitude snowballs out of Simon's control. “About Mal. But not anything else. You can stay down here tonight.”
The tension runs through Wash in a silent protest which Simon ignores, dropping his hand and walking away. He still hasn't looked back at Mal.
“Simon, what are you doing?”
Simon's never heard so much uncertainty from a voice before. To hear it from the captain is nearly unnatural and he has to shake his head to rid himself of the feeling. He looks back as he grabs a black cloth off the desk in the corner of the room and the sight steals his breath. Not just the expanse of Wash's naked back, head still bowed, though that would have been enough on it's own. But now with Mal standing over him. Simon's head must be swimming because he hadn't even heard Mal moving.
The captain has his hand where Simon's was, hovering, too afraid to touch. Not sure if he's allowed, a whimsical thought, maybe, but one that sends a spike of pleasure through Simon's gut. His cock still tingles from the fresh sensation of Mal's mouth on him only moments ago. Wash has definitely been right.
“Don't worry, Mal. This isn't for you.” Simon steps back to Wash, his knees brush against Wash's back. A pointed look has Mal moving his hand away and Simon loops the cloth over Wash's head, covers his eyes and ties it tightly. It probably catches in his hair but that's another discomfort that Wash is going to have to live with. He stoops down to talk by Wash's ear, lips scraping against skin and Wash visibly shudders. “You know you've been a brat, you know how to get my attention when you want it and this isn't the way. I should send you out of this room for the night.”
“Simon...”
“Shh. But you were right so you can stay down here. Right as you are. No moving, no coming, no watching. You can listen. How does that sound?” It's not really a question when Wash knows what answer to give, whatever he's actually thinking.
“Good, Simon.”
Simon's hand ruffles through Wash's hair. “Good boy.”
Mal looks like someone caught face to face with a Reaver, watching the interaction with wide eyes. Wide interested eyes. He nervously licks his lips and the sight makes Simon's cock fill. He thinks that no one has been able to get him going that quickly again without even trying.
“Ain't so keen on this, Simon.” For all Mal looks like a nervous sub, he still talks like a captain, like Simon is his medic.
“Is that so?” The hardness Simon palms between Mal's legs says otherwise. “I think you should be calling me 'sir' when we're down here.” His fingers press to Mal's lips before he can speak. “It's not a request.”
Mal is still going to protest but the words only come out as a burst of air when Simon pushes him too hard against the ladder. He can feel Mal tense, ready to fight, but a kiss stops that in it's tracks, Simon's tongue taking entrance, his hands pinning Mal's wrists down at his sides.
When Simon steps back, Mal is breathless, his gaze looks vacant. He doesn't move, slumped back against the ladder. Simon would like to think that that's all the resistance he'll get but he knows better. The doubt comes slowly back into Mal's eyes.
“Why?” Mal's gaze turns to the quiet rustle of Wash's cuffs when the pilot shifts, uncomfortable and restless.
“Because it's what I want. And I think Wash is right and it's what you want. Don't look at him.”
Mal's gaze snaps back to Simon. Simon's gaze catches on the way Mal's throat constricts around a swallow. There's a long pause before a cautious nod where Mal looks down. Thinking about Simon's cock down his throat and how good that felt.
Simon can guarantee that everything else will feel better. He might even take pity on Wash and have Mal blow him later. A gesture that's partly selfish when Simon imagines the sight. For now, Mal is his and he waits patiently for Mal to listen to his order of 'strip'.
*
Mal looks good. Simon hadn't thought he could get any better. But spread out and gagged - Mal doesn't know when to stop asking questions and he needs to learn how to trust whatever Simon is going to do next - he definitely looks better.
He's hard through it all, too. As nervous as he is, as hesitant to be the one taking orders, he stays hard and Simon doesn't have to do a gorramn thing to keep him that way. Just light touches and sharp words to correct Mal when he moves wrong or hesitates just a touch too long.
“It's just an experiment, Mal. We'll play tonight and, if you like it, you can come back for more, as much as you want.” Simon's knelt between Mal's knees, running his hands in comforting gestures up and down the man's legs. He leans down, whispering in Mal's ear, knowing that Wash will hate not being able to hear. “I know I'd like that. I know Wash would. I think he wants you to fuck him.”
Mal whimpers, he almost whines, the only thing he can do behind that gag, throat working in a way that says he's trying to push the plastic out with his tongue. Simon nips sharply just under his ear. “Stop that.”
Mal stops.
Simon rolls his eyes. “And stop glaring at me before I have to blindfold you, too.” He's sure he doesn't imagine the shudder of arousal that runs through Mal.
Minutes later the blindfold is on, Simon's cock is teasing at Mal's entrance while Mal balks and relaxes, shudders and arches. When he pushes inside, he half expects Mal to cry out but he's greeted with silence, even Mal's breath is caught. The moan he hears is from Wash, still on the floor.
Simon closes his eyes, his hips work against Mal's, ragged breaths and Wash's moans, and Simon thinks that this is his. These boys and this life. Even better when they both want to be here with him.
*