Provocation
By Clarity Scifiroots
Genre: Slash Characters/Pairing: Mal/Simon
Rating: All
Summary: Simon knows one sure way to get Mal in bed.
(Written for “provoke” on promptsomeslash)
Warning: Spoilers for Jaynestown, Objects in Space, BDM
Disclaimer: This is merely a fan
tribute to an amazing fandom. Purely for entertainment purposes with no money
being made whatsoever. I’m merely visiting the playground.
Recently
edited: April 7, 2009
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All things considered, it really
didn't take a lot to get Mal in Simon’s bed. What were a few scars compared to
having Malcolm Reynolds pressed against his body? He was more than willing to
sacrifice a few patches of skin for the opportunity, especially since it meant
a moist, determined mouth caressing his skin.
The first time it happened he'd been stunned. Serenity had barely made it away
from
Then Early, and the bullet in his leg. Once he was moved into his room, Mal
came and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Simon awoke from a doze
as lips caressed his skin: his face, neck, hands, belly, and – embarrassingly
enough – his thigh where he'd been wounded.
After that there had been a couple of small events similar to the first, faint
murmurs of the emotions Simon had felt when he was bedridden.
And then things took a different turn. Simon had walked off Serenity with his
sister, only to return a few hours later to be pinned, physically and
metaphorically, by Mal for keeping secrets. So many lives lost because of
secrets. The
Despite how badly the entire crew suffered, or maybe because of it, Mal came to
his bed and lay at his side. Simon’s fingers trembled as he touched the
captain's bruised face. He ran his thumb over the split lip and stitched cuts
that would scar.
So many scars.
It seemed that Mal thought there were too many. Simon smiled at the memory.
"'Gotta stop meeting like this, Doc."
"I don't see how it's my fault, Captain," Simon murmured, gaze fixed
on their intertwined fingers resting on his chest. His stomach still ached from
the Reaver's nearly fatal shot.
"Wo de ma... Stop gettin'
yourself shot at an' laid up."
Simon rolled his eyes in mild annoyance. "Not exactly my choice
but..."
"You're an idiot," Mal growled, fingers squeezing painfully tight;
Simon ignored it.
"It gets me you," he whispered.
Mal's grip suddenly went lax. Simon lifted his gaze. Mal stared at him with a
confused look. Then his expression changed, as if the pieces had suddenly come
together.
Leaning in, Mal gently bit Simon's ear and said, "Knock it off an' I'll
promise you'll get me more often."
Simon closed his eyes, an overwhelming sense of relief ridding him of tension
he hadn't realized was there. "You swear?"
"Cross my heart, Doc."
Still, a little physical hurt now and then could do wonders to get Mal on the
run...
"Kao! What’d you do to yourself?" Mal demanded, storming into
the infirmary with the tails of his coat flapping out behind him.
Simon shook his head at the predictability of his lover. He turned around and
held up his hands. "Look, it's nothing!" he protested, nodding at the
scrap on his right forearm. "I was just helping Kaylee and got a little
stuck. Some antibiotic, wrap it up for the night, and it'll be good a
new."
Mal scowled. "You sure?"
"I'm the doctor here, remember?" Simon snorted and turned back to the
counter so he could cover the scrape. He felt Mal approach and soon his lover's
arms wrapped around his waist.
"Zoe is an evil woman," he grumbled.
Simon grinned in sudden understanding. "She told you I got hurt?" He
laughed as he felt Mal's affirmative nod. "Well, you know... it's my
professional opinion that I seem to heal faster with some, um, intimate
care from my captain."
Mal rubbed his hand down Simon's arm. "An' we need you in one piece... 'Spose I'm up to it."
Pushing back with his hips, Simon teased, "You certainly are."
"That was low, Doc," Mal said with a smile clear in his tone. "C’mon,
move it."
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