Inara's instructors (not to mention her students) would have been shocked. Her first House Mother would have clucked and fussed like a chicken. Possibly even fainted from the shock.

Because, my dear, that sort of thing Just Isn't Proper.

Falling in love. Actually, even giving into lust.

Allowing a common thief to kiss you. And touch you. And do whatever that utterly delicious thing is he's doing with his tongue.

And if that weren't enough, on a kitchen table.

Not proper. Not done. And not sanitary.

Yet, in that moment, with her choli pushed over her breasts, her skirts up around her waist and Mal's hardness pressing into her, she could have cared less about proper.

Perhaps a bit about the sanitary issue, but she had a suspicion that she and Mal were not christening that table.`

So it was a shock to have him suddenly pull back and insist that she deserved for this to be done properly. In a real bed.

She'd been laid out in real beds countless times. Beds much fancier - and bigger - than Mal's crowded bunk. Been told she deserved to be treated like a princess, a queen, a goddess.

A precious china doll.

None of which she either expected, nor really wanted of him. In fact, the very notion of Mal treating her like that was absurd. He was not refined, or smooth or any of the other fine qualities that a potential client for a Companion should posses.

He was rough, raw, real.

And as she shook her head and dropped a hand to help him undo his pants, she prayed that it would make her real as well.