Bed and Wine: Part 10

By Kaynara

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Mal and Inara try to overcome old fears and insecurities. The crew visits the post station and finds a package in need of delivery. (No, it’s not a body.) R-ish. Serenity *spoilers.*

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It whirled about in her memory: pretty snippets.

Heavy breath and long sighs, fluid kisses and heated flesh.

“Why, darlin’. I do believe you’re blushin’.”

“You were staring.”

“Can’t quite help myself.”

“You’ve seen me without my clothes, Mal.”

“Inara...I was lookin’ at your eyes.”

They were back on the bed now; she vaguely recalled ending the night on the floor.

How had they wound up there in the first place? Did they fall? At one point, he’d tugged her to the foot of the bed, dangled her legs over the edge and put his face between her thighs. After, she was boneless, wrecked. Perhaps she sort of slithered off then, or maybe he’d pulled her, gathering her on the floor in his lap, their bodies entwined. Then they just, stayed, made love on the cold hard floor, as if either of them noticed the surroundings. In the light, they’d both have bruises.

Merciful Buddha--just remembering made her want him again. How long this time? How long before it hurt? Little jabs, unforgivable barbs. And in the end, he’d run. The first time he rejected her--sent her away from him, from Serenity--left her weary and listless, so low that she literally sank to the floor, lay curled there crying with one hand pressed to her mouth to stifle the sobs. She’d understood, but understanding didn’t ease the pain. Would he always push her away? He was so afraid of losing he wouldn’t let himself have.

And if it were simple as that, they’d be okay. Perhaps they’d have always felt the tension, a certain quickening when the other was near. But they could have survived it. If they’d only accepted the impossible, it might not have consumed them. Now they’d waste away, devoured by their own demons, their doubts and their insecurities. A career courtesan in love with the Abominab