The usual disclaimers. This is a work of fanfic, not intended to entrench on any parties registered copyright interests.

With appologies to Joss Whedon, Sei Shonagon, and Peter Greenaway whose brilliance inspired this work. Thanks to Mai and Inaraesque for being the best betas in the verse.

86. He lay back obediently

He lay back obediently, silent for once, as my brush danced across his skin. It didn’t start out that way. He grumbled during the bath of water and lemon juice.

“I did bathe this mornin’ you know. You tryin’ to say I stink.”

“Mal this is part of the ritual, just lie back and enjoy it.”

“You know, I can’t afford any of your fancy wiles.”

I gave him my exasperated smile as I dried him off and gently pushed him onto the bed. I have learned to pick my fights. He does not mean to hurt me with his barbs, it’s just his way. I kissed him gently lulling him into complacency, and then I let my brush speak for me.

*I love you,* a simple phrase in French for his right arm.

*You are my home,* a concept in Russian for his left arm.

“That tickles.”

“Shhh . . . hold still. Let me have my way.“

*Your words cut me like razors,* arched around his collarbone with the Japanese symbols reaching up to caress his jugular.

*You heal me. You hurt me. Only you have this power. You and no other. I am yours, eternally. You are mine forever.* I scrawled this polyglot prayer across his chest. He moaned in pleasure as the oils I mixed with the ink warmed his skin. The unguents made his muscles quiver involuntarily.

“What are you doing to me?”

I filled my eyes with meaning and mischief, “Don’t you know. I’m casting a spell on you. Companions are trained in all the arts.”

“Well, whatever it is don’t stop.”

*In you, I have found the meaning of Serenity,* this down his right leg, the Sanskrit enlarged so that the words barely brush his inner thigh.

*And once you’ve been in Serenity you can never leave,* in Hebrew on his left.

“’Nara . . . I . . .” the wo