Inara’s taken to crawling into his bunk when the nightmares get too bad. Which seems to settle and soothe her to sleep. Been doing so for a solid week.

Mal wishes he could say the same on his own account. But laying there with his arms wrapped around a jasmine-scented dream makes his heart ache for things they ought not be, and parts of him further south hurt just as bad for other things no less needful.

Because he is past wanting her and at downright needing her.

And the Sweet Baby Buddha knows that with his back against the bulkhead because his bunk was really never designed for two, her satin-shortie-covered bottom wedged tight against his groin is putting all manner of lustful thoughts into his head. Furthermore, the knowledge that, with a small tilt of his head, he can see all the way down her pajama top is not easing matters.

It’s a wonder he gets any sleep.

Was easier when he awoke from those lustful dreams to an empty bed. He could deal with his body’s reaction in the manner to which he had become accustomed. Might not be all that much fun compared to actually having her there, but at least he could get some relief.

Having the object of those fantasies right there, but him unable to do all those deliciously wicked things he imagines, is driving him right ‘round the bend. Might as well sign him up for a room next to River’s in the bughouse. Thing is, on the one hand, he looks forward to her snuggled up to him. Makes him think maybe he’s got a shot. And the view down her top is a nice bonus.

On the other, he knows he is just a man, and not entirely made of stone.

This time is particularly trying, as she is a bit restless and shifting against him, reminding him that mebbeso parts of him are made of stone. Ai ya, he can’t take much more, lest he overstep his bounds. He gently shakes her to wake her up.

“Inara, bao-bei, we gotta talk.”

She mumbles and shifts against him more, which is only making it worse. He wonders if she is doing it on purpose.

“Darlin’, please. This is ser