Mal had never been one to tear right into gifts. He'd savor it, taking his sweet time actually getting the wrapping undone. Drove his Ma crazy every time, but he'd always figgured any proper gift was worth the wait.

Inara was gonna be no different. Despite that ruttin' little shortie pajama set she paraded around in that drove him to all manner of distraction. No small part of him wanted to feel that satin shred and tear under his hands, just to get to her.

But deep down, he knew she was a gift. Gifts were worth the wait. Mal could, when the situation called for it, be a very patient man.

Although the Sweet Baby Jesus knew his patience was sorely tested by her sitting there in that very outfit. Held together by those three little buttons and a whole lotta hope. He prayed it was a trick of the lighting that let him think he could actually see through the top just a bit to the faintly darker color of her nipples.

As had become their custom, she smiled and offered to make him tea. He accepted, as much to get a good long look at that satin-covered backside of hers as she stretched to fetch the box of tea down from a top shelf. He had to restrain himself from coming up behind her and letting her feel his rapidly growing need through that thin material of hers.

She's a gift, Reynolds. Don't forget that.

When she leaned over to set the tea down in front of him, he got more of an eyeful than any non-client of hers had a right to. He finally cleared his throat, willing himself to look her in the eye.

"Yanno, it does tend toward chilly here on this old bucket. Ya might wanna go get a robe or somethin'. Or a blanket? I could fetch ya a blanket..."

Inara sipped her tea. "That's very thoughtful of you, Mal. But I'm actually fine."

Before he could stop himself, the words fell out. "Well, I sure as hell ain't."

"Are you not feeling well?"

She put a concerned hand to his forehead to feel for a fever. It was damn near his undoing and he had to gently grasp her wrist before things spun out o