Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact

Interlude

Notes: Big *smoochies* to dirty_diana for the beta.



Mal feels sick. He takes in a long heaving breath and tries not to think about what he’s doing, trying not to see the horror and shock on most of the crew’s faces, or the knowing stare on Zoe's. She’s seen him like this before, and knows just how far he can go. Will go.

All those people dead. Dead because of him, because of a choice he made. A choice that wasn’t really a choice. He couldn’t just stand back and let it happen, watch a young woman be hunted down and killed in cold blood for abilities she never asked for, for a secret she never wanted. He tries to pretend that’s the only reason why he carried River back onto his ship. He could have succeeded to continue to fool himself, too, but for the soft sound of a step behind him.

He knows it’s Simon. And not because he recognizes the soft step, nor because of the faint scent of his soap, but because Simon is the only one of the crew insane enough to try to approach him now. Everyone else can read the danger signs. Everyone else stays away, but not Simon. He can almost feel the comforting hand on his shoulder, almost hear the words that are meant to offer condolences and shared grief, but will only sound hollow in Mal’s ears.

Mal’s hands curl into fists. Why can’t the boy just leave him alone? Why can’t he ever leave well enough alone? Mal turns and the look on his face must dry up Simon’s words, because suddenly the doctor’s mouth closes and he takes a step back. Mal stares him down, taking in the paler than usual skin, the eyes full of sadness, the fidgeting hands and something in him breaks, snaps clean through and he’s grabbing Simon by the shirt and slamming him up against the bulkhead so hard that he knocks the wind out of him.

He kisses Simon, kisses him hard – no tenderness, no comfort, just raw passion, finally giving some acknowledgement to the thing that has been between them since the day Simon first stepped onto Serenity. The thing that has tinged every conversation, every action between them, the thing that made Mal pick River up and take her back on board his ship, despite the danger Mal knew she represented. Mal ignores Simon’s struggles to break free. He presses him against the wall and savages his mouth until Simon stops trying to get away and clutches at Mal, drawing him closer.

Whatever Mal feels for Inara, or Simon for Kaylee, all is pushed away and ignored in the desperate struggle to get to bare skin as they push clothing out of the way, to get their hands on each other. Mal’s got Simon’s shirt open and pushed halfway off his shoulders so that he can touch his pale skin. Simon’s hands are in Mal’s pants, pulling his cock out and he groans against Simon’s throat. His slides his hands down Simon’s body, wishing there was more time, wishing he had something he could use to fuck Simon with. He tears Simon’s pants open and shoves them down far enough to release Simon’s erection. Mal grabs Simon by the ass and lifts him up and presses him back against the wall. Simon clutches at Mal’s shoulders and wraps one leg around Mal’s hip. Mal takes them both into one hand, and starts to stroke. Simon gasps and arches against him.

Mal’s hand moves faster. Simon moans in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He turns his head and kisses Simon. Simon’s hand moves into his hair and holds him there for a long, deep kiss. Simon shudders and buries his face against Mal’s neck and whimpers out his name as he comes. Mal comes moments later, while Simon is still shaking in his arms. He lets go of Simon’s ass and lets him slide back down to his feet. Mal rests his head against Simon’s shoulder and catches his breath. He uses the tail of his shirt to wipe off his hand and Simon’s stomach. He steps back and looks away from the rumpled, debauched mess he’s left of Simon.

“Best get straightened out and get back on the bridge before that sister of yours or Kaylee comes looking for you,” Mal says brusquely, looking down at the material in his hand, now covered in blood and semen.

After the quiet sounds of clothing being rearranged stop, Simon’s hand rests on his shoulder for a moment. Then Simon leaves, without a word. He waits until he’s sure Simon’s gone, and then heads to his bunk to change his shirt.

He’s got a job to do.