roses_in_may

Fic: Finders Keepers, Part 2, E/O

Tue, 27 Jan 2009 14:54:11 GMT

Title: Finders Keepers
Author: Frannie
Rating: R
Summary:

She is lying next to him on an old leather couch in a cold warehouse. She is half naked, and angry, and she probably knows he had almost, almost done the unforgivable, but Elliot steel feels ridiculously happy.

She must hate him, but he is relieved.

Safe, he thinks, and finds himself sighing into her hair. Over the last hour he has gotten as close to her as he could, pressing against her from head to toe, forcing her against the backrest of the couch. His arm feels heavy at his side, and if she were any other woman he would have probably used it to draw her closer still. It’s Liv!, he thinks, and gently places his fingers on her hip.

The fabric of the shirt she is wearing, his shirt, feels alien under his palm.

He feels her shiver from the cold and of its own accord his arm moves from her hip to rest across her stomach and pull her close. He feels her tense up and instantly panics. Was she afraid of him?

Fuck.

He feels the moment she relaxes into his embrace and it is enough for him to close his eyes, finally, and rest.

-

The day Liv leaves for undercover, she comes out of the locker room in a blue sundress. She looks up at him, once, and he cannot help but show his approval. His gaze is heavy, resting primarily on the vulnerable lines of her neck.

Don’t go, he thinks, but the message must not get across because she lets the Fed place his hand on the small of her back and guide her out of the door. Dejected, miserable, horrified, Elliot still finds time for petty jealousies.

Munch and Fin exchange glances, but keep their mouths shut. In retrospect, Elliot envies them that moment, it was never their partnership on the line.

That night, he goes home to an empty apartment, and stands in the shower thinking of pushing that sundress down Liv’s shoulders. Of bunching it in his fists, high above her waist, and pushing into her while she lies, palms flat on the interrogation table.
He thinks she would be wet, and ready, aroused by the game of cat and mouse they play with the suspects. Not that it could ever happen, he muses, they wouldn’t even have condoms, but the Olivia in his head surprises him. ‘Bareback, so I can feel you.’ she says.

He wants punish her for leaving, again and again and again. Hurt her, just the way she liked it, just so she would know that he was serious.

That week Cragen calls him into his office, and the agent has been shot, and Olivia Benson is officially deemed missing.

Something inside of him shatters. He’s been worried that she wouldn’t come back because of him, third time’s the charm and all, but now thinks gone. The word reverberates through him. He aches for her.

The Feds have some leads, and he pursues all the ones they find unworthy. Eco activists, online role playing groups, armageddon cults. All minor league.

He dreams of her and that sundress every night, and when he finally finds her after four months, she is wearing some horrible long yellow skirt and a furious expression.

-

He joins an armageddon cult - three, actually. And he joins several role playing games, factions of animal rights groups, starts going to underground bars. But, it is the first armageddon cult that proves to be the answer. Radical new age Christians, demanding initiation ceremony after ceremony.

Once accepted by the Leader, a math teacher from Texas, he is lead into the warehouse to meet the First Wife, and a harem of women standing demurely behind her.

One is lead towards him, long dark hair curling over fragile shoulders and Elliot’s heart stops. Oh, sweetheart, he thinks.

Something male and primitive inside of him snaps.

He walks towards her, because he cannot bare not to, and places rough fingers on her chin. He drags his thumb over the line of her jaw, the edge of her lip, and rejoices that she is finally, finally, safe under his hands.

They demand he claim her before witnesses, and as she drops to her knees, he thinks, Dear Lord in Heaven, yes please, and hates himself.

Her eyes are spitting daggers at him. The First Wife mocks her that she cannot arouse an interest in such a man, but all that is secondary. He will not force himself on her.

He digs his fingers into her arm and drags her to her feet. The leader is dumbstruck, the First Wife almost giddy with delight. The congregation begins to whisper.

Out of all the reasons he can give them, he says ‘I prefer blondes’.

-

Then, they are alone and locked in the warehouse.

She stands before him naked save for her underwear, ordered to reconcile him to the idea of marriage and bonding.

He forces himself to look away, gives her his shirt, and wants to ask, Did they hurt you, baby?

‘Where is David?’, she asks, and it takes him a moment to realise that it was the Fed’s name. He says nothing, but sits on the couch, and wishes that the last three hours never happened.

She berates him for ruining the operation, for being a sonofabitch, but all he can think is ‘she knows I was tempted’ and wonders if she’s disgusted.

When she gets tired, and cold, she lies on the couch next to him, and he folds his body around her.

-

Eventually, he dreams of finding her, except in his dreams, she is willing. When she kneels before him, her gaze is full of barely contained anticipation.

She takes him in hand, and then, into her mouth, and even in his dream he knows this is better than everything.

With this act, she is his; his bride.

In his dream he sees Olivia, and thinks wife, and says, Kathy.

And then he is awake and she is struggling.

-

She refuses to talk to him the next morning, but he can still smell her on his fingers.

He is so tempted to lick them, to taste her.

The Elders arrive. The First Wife looks dejected, but the others are smiling. A stately looking woman greets Olivia with a hug, laughing and pleased with what she calls the turn of events.

‘You have decided to Claim her after all.’ The Leader speaks.

Elliot, unbelievably, finds himself blushing.

‘As such, the Elders have deemed that you shall be granted a secondary Ceremony, before witnesses’. At Elliot’s hopeless expression, the old man grins.

‘It’s just a wedding son, the bodily Claiming is already complete. Joseph, show him the rings’.

Elliot swallows. Beside him, Olivia starts laughing hysterically.

FIC: Finders Keepers, Elliot/Olivia, NC17

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 09:53:18 GMT

Title: Finders Keeprs
Author: Frannie
Pairing: E/O
Rating: NC17
Summary:

She’s never felt this kinda rage.

Kidnapped and abandoned in a warehouse, (fucking warehouses she thinks) after four months of deep undercover that has now failed because Elliot was too Catholic, too Elliot, to do what had to be done, and now, now, she is lying next to him on this couch, the heat of him scorching her back and she is both safe and furious.

She is cocooned in him, pressed between his body and the leather backrest. The feel of a solid wall of muscle and one arm casually thrown around her shoulders is ruined by his murmuring.

‘Baby.’

‘Please, sweetheart.’

‘Oh, oh, oh.’

He’s dreaming about his wife, and she’s so mad and he is such a motherfucker.

The worst part is that she is so horribly aroused. Her body tightens on its own accord as he slowly pushes his hips against her, the movement pressing his jean clad knees to the bare soft skin at the back of hers. The feel of it is so intimate; if she were any other woman she’d whimper. She thinks if she squeezes her thighs one more time she may come.

He is topless and she is only wearing his shirt and her underwear. It’s just a blow job Stabler, she remembers thinking. Pretend, and we can be home by dinner. Elliot couldn’t pretend and now they were locked and awaiting trial by the elders of an armageddon cult. Fuck.

He couldn’t get it up then, she thinks bitterly, but now he is practically panting into her ear. Now that he thinks she’s someone else.

The warm breath of air is a whisper against her skin: ‘Kathy’.

She feels her stomach drop. A strange, otherworldly emptiness settles into her chest, into her hands, and Olivia swallows the surge of bile at the back of her throat.

As he presses his erection further against her, she begins the struggle to extract herself from his arms. This love of hers is a cruel and unusual punishment.

His hold on her tightens and she can feel the exact moment he wakes.

‘Stay still’, he says. Its low, and guttural, and sounds like sex and sin.

Before she can protest, he presses his lips against her neck, and then opens his wet mouth and bites with his perfect square teeth. She cries out just the once, low, and commands her disobedient body to move.

‘Shhhh’ he murmurs, nuzzling her neck and touching his lips to the back of her ear.

And then: his hand is on her naked thigh. His fingers dig into the skin and his knee is pressing between her legs. Her traitorous body shifts to give him that access and he instantly pulls her leg over his knee, exposing her wet panties to the crisp air.
She feels him inhale, and she thinks bastard, bastard, bastard.

She moves to... to do something, she is not quite sure what, but Elliot slaps her hand away and growls ‘I got it, stay still’ and surprisingly she does.

He holds her hand for a moment, and she can feel his sleepy grin, and then his fingers are pressing against her through the underwear.

She screams into the leather backrest.

The only thing holding her back from an instant orgasm is the realisation that he thinks it’s Kathy beneath his hands. Even that is not enough to make her pull away, and she thinks horrible thoughts like finders keepers, and, undeserving civilian bitch as he pushes one finger inside of her.

Then two.

It’s almost painful at two, which she frankly finds surprising. She has been ready for him for over a decade.

Instead at every thrust he pushes at something and she thinks, this can never stop, ever, or I’ll die, and is grateful he isn’t touching her clit because she’d come too soon, and then, unbelievably, she is coming.

He pushes his fingers as deep inside as he can manage, presses his knee, his torso, his face, against her skin while she rides out her orgasm.

She finds herself crying into the palms of her hands, and panting, and she thinks Oh god, I’m not Kathy even as Elliot presses his thumb against her clitoris and pushes a third finger inside of her.

It hurts, its too much, and she loves him.

He is half off the couch now, resting a lot of his weight on top of her. Three of the fingers of his right hand are inside and his thumb is rubbing and circling and when she comes again he kisses her.

She cannot bare to open her eyes and see recognition and then revulsion when he finally realises she isn’t his wife. Instead, she bites at his lower lip, and clutches at his biceps as he moves his fingers out of her.

She mourns the loss, but his tongue and his mouth are still there and so she keeps her eyes closed and kisses him back.

He pulls away and she gasps for air against his open mouth, tears running down her cheeks, her eyes shut tight.

‘Good girl, Liv’ he says, and kisses her forehead, and draws her further into his body with both arm and knee.

She turns into him, and sobs into his bare chest, screaming you bastard as he holds her.

FIC: Fight, Tony/Ziva, NCIS

Mon, 03 Nov 2008 13:57:54 GMT

Title: Fight
Author: frannie
Rating: R
Fandom: NCIS, Tiva
Summary: Short ficlet. Tony and Ziva are always fighting.

She's got him nice and close. Sitting astride him, his back against the headboard, his head buried against her neck, mouth open and wet.
He struggles to move against her, his hands frantic and punishing. She pushes back.

Tony is mad. Infuriated. He flips her over, arms cruel and grip bruising. It's so right.

She tips her head back, moans, fights him for every inch.

'Fuck you', she keens.

Tony moves his hand to cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair and tugging sharply. She can't help but fight him, turning away even though the pull on her hair is now sharp and hurting. Tony yanks harder, forces her to turn her head just so; angles her for a kiss.

His lips, she thinks, his, and its glorious. She is gasping into his mouth, nails digging into the skin of his cheeks. Please, she begs silently.

'Tony' she breaths into his mouth. It's the only concession she offers him.

It's hard to savour the taste of his lips, the bite of his stubble against her palms, when Tony is pulling at her hair and pulling down her underwear. And then: the feel of his fingers as he gentles her into submission.

'Ziva', he whispers, as he pushes into her, and 'Ziva' as he comes, and 'Ziva' the next morning as he leans over her shoulder to put her coffee cup on her desk. Her name on his lips makes her so wet. He uses it a hundred times each day.

'Ziva', he says, and for a moment she wants to surrender to him. Then his fingers dig into the hollows of her hips and she thinks she'll let him fight her for it a while longer.

Fic: Of Dreams, Mal/River, R

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 05:38:39 GMT

Title: Of Dreams
Author: frannie
Rating: R
Pairing: Mal/River, Mal/Inara (kind of but not really)
Summary: She thinks this girl-River may love Mal, but had forgotten that they are meant to love back.

Men love women. It’s a fact, its truth, but River sometimes forgets. Simon loves her, but thats different - thats family. She is used to women loving men, because despite what ever else she may be, she is female. River has always known this, always identified herself easily in any setting, she is not-Simon, she is a girl. She thinks this girl-River may love Mal, but had forgotten that they are meant to love back.

She remembers that men love women when she sees Mal loving Inara. Not for real, not in flesh, but in his dreams, Mal loves Inara and pushes her onto the cold metal grating of Serenity and Inara lets him. Thats how Mal and River know its a dream, Inara would never bed down on a walkway, not even for Mal.

Mal’s hands are in Inara’s hair, knotted and unscented. He is moving above her, inside her. Mouth open wet, and panting, against her skin. Inara’s eyes are open, but Mal can’t seem to meet them, because they aren’t hers and there is a truth there he is refusing to acknowledge.

In her bunk, River is crying into her pillow. It hurts, but she can’t look away, can’t close her eyes to this. Mal is loving Inara in her head and she can’t change his dream and wishes she could. Wishes she was a better River, so she could, and that she was a better River and that she wouldn’t care.

River can feel Mal’s arousal as he sleeps, and also his hands ghosting along Inara’s dream belly, and Inara beneath her, and also the sheets and River’s bed and River’s hands touching River and its all so confusing.

Inara’s nails are digging into Mal’s shoulder, pulling him closer, biting at his hand when he presses it across her mouth to keep her quiet. The part of Mal that knows this is a dream knows that Inara wouldn’t lose control like that, not in this.
Still, still, he wishes it and so the Inara beneath him screams as she comes, screams and clutches at him hard enough to bruise and mark.

‘Oh, Captain’ she sighs and lets her head fall back and raises her hips to meet him again and again. Her voice sounds different, and Mal almost falters in his movements, but her hands are against his arse, firm and insistent, and her legs are wrapped around him, tight, as if she can’t bear to let him go.

River’s hands are touching, but she must be broken because it doesn’t work the way it does for Kaylee. Whatever she, and Zoe, and even Inara herself can achieve with this, River can’t, and it’s enough to make her scream.

Mal feels himself tethering at the edge of consciousness, at the edge of orgasm, the edge of the black, of abyss, of reality. He has a small, supple breast beneath his left hand, the nipple pebbled under his thumb, and a smooth pale expanse of neck beneath his teeth. He grips, pinches, bites, grunts, comes, and then:

‘River.’ he whispers, into her skin. ‘River’, and sleeps.

In her room, River falls out of bed in surprise.

FIC: Lessons, Mal/River, R

Thu, 09 Oct 2008 17:09:27 GMT

Title: Lessons
Author: frannie
Pairing: Mal/River
Rating: R
Summary: Inara suggests River goes to training school and Mal take it really well - or not.

Authors Note: For </a></b></a>just_slummin because they asked all polite like, and also, because that is an awesome icon. :P
Not sure if I should continue with this - and the actual 'lessons' but I do like the concept.

After days like these he walks into her quarters to watch her sleep. He doesn’t touch her, because that would make him a monster.

A small hopeful part of his mind wonders if perhaps it would be alright to touch himself, and the sensations are always frighteningly real. Moments later he is calculating angles, and he would have the perfect view of her if he sat down right .... wrong! He forces his eyes closed against those thoughts - River is only for looking, the sick fuck that he is.

When he opens his eyes, the urge to touch is still there.

She sleeps like any grown woman, always tempting, with one bare thigh thrown over the covers and the curve of her arse naked to his gaze.

He is angry tonight. Furious with himself for coming here again despite swearing that he would have none of this. Furious with Inara for baiting him - furious with River for being just another woman, aware of her power and wiles and using them to get her way. The ball gown, the voice, the light touch may have not worked too well on Kaylee's kidnappers who had expected a Companion with experience, but it worked on Mal who let River go into that situation.

After Kaylee was safe and everyone else dead, she had walked back onto Serenity with that lost look in her eyes he had hoped to never see again. He had been yelling at Inara, yelling how wrong it was to send in a virgin pretending to be a Companion, since this had been her brilliant idea. When Inara suggested training school, he felt his blood boil. River was a child, he had said, more to himself than to anyone else. River had looked like he had slapped her. In moments she unhooked her gown, slipped out and threw it at his feet, then, naked as she had been the moment he laid his eyes on her, she left.

It’s sick, the way he wants her like this. Bare of makeup, bare except for the night dress that has already ridden up in her sleep. That part of his mind that thinks maybe he should embrace the Special Hell of his choosing has already noticed her panties - always notices them, whether its the outline against her clothing or an ill conceived manner of sitting and Mal wonders when he became the pervert so interested in woman's underwear.

Except, he knows, its not woman’s underwear that has him coming in here every other night, its River.

River, who today killed nineteen and now sleeps like a babe. A man for every candle on her birthday cake, had they been able to afford more than one this past couple of months. Despite his rage he knows she feels anguish at what she has had to do, at what they made her, and that she sleeps now because Simon had fussed until she succumbed to the medication. But Mal’s anger is grand tonight, the image of her, blood seeping into the ball gown Inara had lent her, a ruined Alliance princess, was horrifying. The blood he could live with, but River was meant to be his. Not some Alliance plaything. Not some whore.

Inara was wrong, he thinks, and clenches his hands into fists. River would not be going to no gorram training school. They had evidence enough of what happened last time someone had sent River off for educatin’ - evidence enough of what happened every time she was out of his gorram sight.

He is pinned against the wall before he is even aware she has woken. Even through the haze of sleep she only needs an instant to recognise him and then her hold on him slackens.

‘Oh, its you.’ She says and turns away from him, as if she doesn’t care that its him in her rooms at night. Like he doesn’t matter, and all of a sudden Mal is furious again.

‘You won’t be going with Inara to no training house. You will not be playing some high society prostitute!’

‘But a low society whore, like the one you bedded down? That’s alright?’

Mal can’t believe she would dare. He is shaking in his anger, hands clenching at his sides so he doesn’t reach and hit her - or worse, kiss her. River’s little hands are instantly cupping his face, gentling as she stands before him, not entirely unapologetic.

‘Now you know what it feels like for someone to belittle you for doing the right thing.’

He can’t look at her. Refuses to enjoy the feel of her pressed against him. Refuses to be soothed like some angry animal.

‘Mal’, she whispers, and pulls him by the hand towards the bed. ‘Sit’.

He sits, and resents her for it. Resents her for a lot of things in fact, least of which is the way she presses close against him - like she knows he is less likely to punch the walls if she’s in the way. Considering who she is, he supposes that it’s entirely possible.

‘No, River! No, you will not be going...’, he runs out of words, but he is sure, he is the Captain, so she can't go.

She presses further into him. ‘Mal, I have to go. I have to learn this. I can’t be like this forever.’

‘Like what? Normal? Not a whore? Innocent?’ he asks, eyes flashing.

She snorts at that. They both know she hasn’t been innocent for a long while. River looks down at her lap, where his hand has been resting against her thigh. He follows her gaze and before he can wrench his hand away, she snaps her legs shut and traps it there.

‘River!’ He exclaims, and tugs.

She moves her hands down to where his is now curving against the inside of naked right thigh. Naked, Mal thinks and feels like he actually may be blushing, like he is back on a ranch with a girl in the hayloft. He isn't, he shouldn't be doing this.

She holds his larger hand in both of her hands, opens her legs and shifts, until his hand is right there under her dress and he is cupping her.

‘I want to be touched, Captain. I need to be touched.’

Mal feels as if the heat of her is burning his fingers, the cotton soft and oh - oh - damp. River shifts a little towards him, pitches forward, and he isn’t sure what she’s doing until her forehead hits his shoulder and he realises that she’s angling herself better and now there is all this added pressure and warmth against his fingers.

She makes small rhythmic movements against his hand, clutching at it with both of hers, her wet mouth pressed against his neck, her breath ghosting along his jaw.

Mal closes his eyes and listens to her whimper, feels her tremble, and wonders if maybe it would be so bad to help.

‘Darlin’. No.’ Mal places his free hand against her shoulder and gently pushes. He looks at her face and can see that her eyes are filling up with tears. ‘No.’ He says, resolute. She opens her palms in defeat and now free, Mal moves both his hands to grip at her forearms.

‘You don’t want to touch me because no one’s touched me before.’

‘No! Darlin’... Well, well yes. But, gorram it. It aren’t the same, it's not because there is any wrong with you for it. I’m just an old man and you aren’t for like likes of me’.

‘Oh fuck off!’ And Mal is so surprised as to where she might have learnt that little tidbit of Old English from Earth-that-was he doesn’t even notice her crawling further against him. Until she is astride his lap and whispering in his ear: ‘Aren’t for the likes you, aren’t for the likes of those men today, aren’t for the likes of Jayne. No one wants someone whose no good. Inara’s got practice. Saffron’s got practice - its why you want them.’

‘Practice isn’t the issue, but darlin’ you’re a wee bit young.... wait, what? Did you go to Jayne with this? River!’

‘None of yours if I did.’ She says, and moves to get off him, but Mal is already grabbing her forearms again and pinning them to her sides.

‘River. Did. you. go. to. Jayne. like. this?’ he grits out through clenched teeth.

‘You’re hurting me!’ She says, but doesn’t try to move away.

‘Did you go to Janye like this?’ He asks again. She can see the whiteness of his knuckles where he has grabbed her - she is going to bruise. She can’t say she minds.

‘No, Captain.’

Mal’s body positively relaxes beneath her. It’s as if she can feel each muscle unwind. His hands are gentle against her forearms where he can already see bruises.

‘Oh, oh, darlin’ I didn’t mean to hurt you none.’

He looks wretched, and she knows he didn’t.

‘Mal, I was meant to be a great lady. Someone special, someone perfect. I am not any of that, just a weapon sometimes, but yours, a pilot, but yours, but I want to be a woman, actual and real, and to be that I have to be someone’s or everyone’s like Inara. I have to learn, so either make me yours or let me go training with Inara. Oh Captain, I didn’t have to kill those men today but they didn’t believe I was a Companion and they would have hurt Kaylee and so they had to die, they died because I’m not a real woman.’

At this point, River is crying into his neck, sobbing, and Mal feels like the worst kind of bastard.

‘Teach me, touch me, or let me go. I don’t care about riches, or money, or politeness, or playing lords and ladies. I’m Serenity’s princess, but someone’s gonna have to make me Queen and touch me or I’m going.’

And then ‘touch me, please’ when he brings his hand to tangle in her hair, and ‘touch me, Captain’ when his lips press against her tear stained eyelids.

He kisses her then, along her eyes, her cheeks, her jaw. Fleeting butterfly kisses and then, with both hands cupping her face, he kisses her mouth. Eyes closed, he thinks, open your mouth for me darlin’ and she does.

FIC: The Cold, River/Mal, NC17

Tue, 07 Oct 2008 16:47:27 GMT

Title: The Cold
Author: frannie
Rating: NC17
Pairing: River/Mal
Summary: After the events of 'The Deal'. Mal has been avoiding River, but its cold in the black, and she is right there beneath him.

Author's Note: Yeah, I wrote one of those River sleeps in Mal's bunk fics. I love them. I'm not ashamed. For </a></b></a>because without her this would have never happened! :P

She’s been sleeping in his bunk every night for the last fifteen.

It’s been three weeks after the Incident - which they do not talk about, and he certainly does not think about, ever, not even in the shower, and definitely not when he’s in bed since she is there as well.

He should have known, he thinks, from the moment he saw her in that box he should have known that there would be no escaping her.

River Tam would be the death of him.

He wakes up to her several times in the night - often because his arm has fallen asleep under her or to a mouthful of hair, or like now, to the feel of her pressed into the mattress beneath him, his cock hard and twitching.

This position is like some gorram curse, some kind of magicking, because she is right there and he is not allowed to touch. Again.

It is worse after the Incident, impossible, because he knows how she feels beneath his hands. Hell, he has his hands on her right now, and she would be nothing but willing and supple, and... asleep.

He is a bastard for not moving away yet. They must have been sleeping like this for a while, with his forehead against her neck and his lower body nestled between her thighs. It is not surprising, in sleep River clutches at him with both arms and legs.

Mal can’t help but open his mouth against her skin where the nightshirt had slipped over one shoulder. He drags his stubble over the same skin, watching it raise angry and red. He kisses it, again and again, and pretends that he isn’t already rocking against her.

No! No!, he thinks, and wretches himself away from her.

For days Mal couldn’t think of nothing but her and the night he... the night of the Incident. And so he avoided and ignored her because the sight of her was always transposed with the image of her astride him, mewling ‘please’ as she rode his fingers. He should never have kissed her. He should never have opened his eyes.

Then the inevitable happened, without their mechanic things started to fall apart. It was only the little things that Kaylee tweaked and adjusted daily and that they were going to survive without - except it was gorram cold.

And so, when he found River on the bridge, shaking beneath her blanket and staring out into the black, it was nothing to gather her into his arms.

‘Cold.’ She chattered, and her lips were blue, and he still wanted to kiss her. That was wrong, but it would be worse to let her die, and so he had guided her to his bunk and beneath his sheets.

When she was warm, and settled, and sleeping, Mal realised how desperately he missed Simon. Then he thought about what he was doing to Simon’s sister the night of Simon’s wedding, and he was more than weary of meeting Simon’s eyes again.

They didn’t talk about it, but the next night he found River in his bed.

She said ‘Cold!’ in that determined voice, and so Mal laid next to her and pretended to sleep.

Now she wakes, shivering, because in his haste Mal has dragged the covers off her. Her nipples harden and he sees nothing else, feels nothing but them beneath his hands, in his mouth, between his teeth, and its not fair to want something this badly.

She reaches for him in the dark, catches his shirt beneath her fingers and pulls. He lands against her with a heavy thud.

‘Blankets!’ she demands, and settles the bed covers over them again. She squirms beneath him, and he realises that he must be suffocating her. When he tries to shift away, her hold on his shirt tightens.

‘Stay. ‘s nice.’

Mal’s body is rigid and tense. He is trying so desperately not to think, because its wrong and because she is a reader and this is bad, bad, bad.

Until: ‘Would you prefer me on my knees?’

Wait, what?, he thinks.

In answer, River moves her hand between their bodies, and he thinks, no, she wouldn’t, in the instant her hand closes over his cock.

‘River!’ he exclaims, outraged, but her hand continues to ghost over him, tentative and unsure.

‘Would you prefer me on my knees?’ she asks again.

Mal is sure he has lost all power of speech, his grip on reality, his senses, because she is touching him.

‘A kiss for a kiss.’ she says, smiling up at him in that way that is entirely too woman.

‘Darlin’, no.’ He whispers, and places his hand on hers to stop her, but the image of her words, of her legs spread beneath his mouth, and the noises she would make - it’s all too much.

‘Oh.’ She says, as if that version of it did not occur to her. ‘I did not know you could... oh.’

Something in him, something male and primitive, snaps.

‘River. Darlin’.’ He says, and kisses her.

She does end up on her knees for him that night. Still tentative, and unsure, because despite seeing and feeling both sides of this particular act, it is all new to the part of her that is River.

The taste of him, the feel of him against her tongue, the width and the heaviness and that feeling that its all too much, too full, is new and exciting. There are no other thoughts when she does this. His thoughts are an incoherent jumble, but for the first time they are peripheral.

It’s different then the night he had his fingers inside of her because there were no thoughts then. Now, she is only aware of him, the way his body trembles beneath her hands, the way his breath hitches, the way she can’t help but pull away to watch him, glorious, and then put her mouth all over him again.

He moans her name as he comes, gripping at her hair. There is nothing polite about this.

He kisses her when he finally manages to open his eyes, and watches her and parts his mouth for her when ever she leans in for yet another kiss.

Fic: The Deal, Mal/River, NC17

Mon, 06 Oct 2008 18:20:11 GMT

Title: The Deal
Author: frannie
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Mal/River
Disclaimer: Not mine. Seriously.
Summary: River convinces Mal to make a deal with her: he would help her catch up on some of the things she’s missed out on.

Authors Note: No idea why I wrote this, its my first fic in eight years. I should be writing my Property essay. Awww, hell.

She is sitting astride his lap - she’d crawled her way up there - and he is having trouble concentrating.

He thinks the conversation started off normally enough, but for the life of him he cannot remember how her ‘Serenity sings for Kaylee’s joy’ turned into ‘Zane - I diddna like his thoughts, they were ugly’ to ‘and that’s why I think you should kiss me’.

She is nuzzling at his jaw, all open mouthed kisses and full lower lip dragging across the stubble - and Mal is not going to move his hands from the armrests and drag her body further down so she fits across him in all the right places. He isn’t.

She is not his for the taking.

He tries to focus on the mess that led to this, waiting for her to be done, and... and that does not sound right but his thoughts are all a-scatter at this point anyway.

Small, nimble fingers are unbuttoning his shirt and her teeth - sharp - are grazing across his adam's apple. He can’t bare to open his eyes and look - to see her small hand at his belly, her hair ghosting against his neck. The seeing would make it real - and he’s not ready to be that kind of monster.

‘Real. No monster. Just woman and man.’ She whispers, and moves to kiss him again.

He knows he should stop her. It’s not a part of their deal, it’s against this whole gorram arrangement in fact, but what’s one more kiss in all this crazy.

When they break apart, Mal’s knuckles are white from gripping the armrest. Almost involuntarily, he presses his forehead against hers, stealing her breath and trying to collect his thoughts.

He shouldn’t have let her kiss him again. He shouldn’t have let her kiss him at all. There is a place in Special Hell for him - he has to believe that because he knows this is wrong and he should burn for it.

‘Not sin, not wrong, Captain.’ She breathes against his lips. This time instead of opening his mouth to her, he turns his head away. In determination she slides her hips closer, clutches tighter at him with her knees, and moves to bite the shell of his ear. This is a new kind of torture.

Before it all got all kinds of complicated he had understood that dancing with the local boy - Zane - had given her a glimpse into the boy’s mind. There she had found images of herself, flat on her belly, tied up, nude and crying. Last they saw of Zane was him sobbing in pain as the locals rushed him across town for a doctor. Simon and Kaylee had just departed for their honeymoon, and so without knowing why his pilot had decided to bodily injure her dance partner, Mal ushered the last unaccounted for of his crew back to Serenity.

As soon as they arrived on board, River had made her way to the bridge. Mal followed at her heals, feeling like a sheep dog with only one sheep to guard. She said nothing for a long time, besides that one comment about Serenity’s joy and Mal almost hoped she was asleep.

When she told him what she had seen in the boy’s mind, he felt the return of all that fierce rage born of seeing her in that gorram box.

‘No. No. He wanted me to hurt, to hurt me, but he wanted me to like it.’

And that's when Mal understood.

He understood her reaction, her confusion, even some of her guilt. She didn’t want to hurt people - she was no weapon.

‘No weapon. Not woman either. I know love. Felt aftershocks of lovein’ from Zoe and Wash.’ She made a face - ‘Kaylee and Simon’.

‘Darlin’ sometimes it’s not about love. Sometimes its just about the sexin’.’

At those words, some kind of bitter hurt flittered through her eyes.

‘Like Inara?’ She asked, face blank and emotionless.

Something in his chest had felt hallow at that point, like an old wound that he just recalled and couldn’t believe he’d ever forgotten. ‘Yeah, like Inara.’

He remembered her getting up, her dress whispering against her legs - and then his legs when she moved to stand in front of his seat.

That same dress was now bunched in his lap, nothing but panties and his own clothes between them.

‘Malcolm, I want you to kiss me again.’ She whispered. Nails dragging across the spot on his neck where she had bitten him. She was very good at thinking of ways to prolong this, he would have thought she would have run out of ideas a while back.

‘Bao Bei, I have. We said only once.’ (What a stupid deal he had agreed to, once for every experience she missed out on so she could catch up. She was a gorram genius. She was going to be the death of him.)

She rose a little on her knees, then settled down further against him. He couldn’t help but buck towards her. This was getting down right embarrassing.

‘Not with your hands in my hair. Captain, put your hands on me.’

And so he did. After all, he couldn’t fault her logic.

He may have lost his mind, a little, with that. Her skin was like liquid heat beneath his hands.

Beneath his mouth.

He marked her over and over. She bruised surprisingly easy and since he was already going to gorram hell, he took care to make her moan and whimper for it.

Her dress now pooled entirely at her thighs. She stood astride him on her knees so that Mal could take to her breasts with lips and teeth.

She mewled ‘Please’ and ‘Mal’ and ‘Please’ over and over.

And then: ‘I felt your hands on her, in the brothel, I loved her because you loved her. I want to feel your hands on me, like that.’

And so, mouth against her feverish skin, Mal touched her, and when her tights quivered, he let her skin onto his hand.

When she came, her eyes were open, and his. He kissed her then, again, on his own accord, his fingers still inside her. And again, when he moved his hands to the straps of her dress and begun to slowly lift it up.

‘Captain. Don’t make me leave. Ple...’

‘I won’t.’ He interjected, before he could be undone. She was never to say ‘please’ in his hearing again.

He slowly, almost mournfully, kissed each of her breasts, tugging at the nipples then gentling against them with his tongue. Saying goodbye to them as he slipped her dress back over her shoulders.

She caught a glimpse of something in his mind.

‘Mal, you are still... should I?’ But she was already yawning and he was a bastard for even thinking it.

‘No, no more of this, River.’ At that she settled her head against his shoulder, her weight slight but unmistakable in his arms.

A woman astride him, and dawn spilling across Serenity’s bridge. Earlier that evening, such a suggestion would have been heaven.

He was still hard.

This was hell.

Fan Vid: Told You So

Sat, 04 Aug 2007 09:16:55 GMT

Title: Told You So

Created by: roses_in_may

Pairing: Mickey/Rose, subtle Rose/Nine

Notes: Created for rosa_acicularis as a thanks for all the ~~fish~~ fic.