Victory sex, Mal decided, was the best sex ever.
It didn't come the first day after they left Clearwater or the second or the third. The fourth day, they dropped River off on Kerry and Simon sulked around the entire afternoon. The morning of the fifth day, while still half-asleep, Simon shifted so that he lay directly on top of Mal, which wasn't unusual in and of itself. Mal flexed every muscled head to toe as much to feel Simon as to tease him. Simon just sighed softly in his ear, sounding for all the 'verse like he was ready to fall asleep again. Mal was nearly fooled until Simon's feet betrayed him. Using the tips of his toes, Simon started massaging Mal's calves in that unconscious manner he had when he thought about sex in the morning.
"Something you want, Simon?"
Simon paused briefly, catching himself, then pinched Mal's heels more firmly between his toes.
"I want my arm to stop hurting."
Mal winced sympathetically at Simon's newest scar. Derek's bulled had taken a fair bigger chunk than Mal had suspected and the yu ben de rim doctor that patched Simon up wasn't nearly as talented at making wounds disappear.
With the barest nudge of Mal's shoulder, Simon levitated his body so that Mal could flip over and they were lying face to face. It was a trick they'd perfected in the single bed and Mal still had no idea where all Simon's weight went when they did it.
As Simon's body melded to Mal's, their lips met in a slow, deep sighing kiss. Sensing Simon's weariness, Mal rolled them so that he was on top and Simon wouldn't have to support himself on his gimped arm. After a few minutes gently massaging tongues and lips, the kiss ended and they smiled contentedly at each other.
"I ain't a doctor, but my momma taught me most scrapes could be kissed better."
"Sounds like a malpractice suit to me."
Mal kissed along the bandage, and Simon shifted slightly.
"You need something for the pain?"
Simon shook his head and smiled softly, reaching up one hand to caress Mal's cheek. "What you're doing is good."
Sliding into a straddle over Simon's hips, Mal shifted his weight and kissed down Simon's neck while his hands wandered under Simon's shirt. When he noticed Simon not moving his injured arm, he gave up on removing the shirt and kissed Simon right through the fabric. Simon arched into his mouth, moaning happily as his good hand explored Mal's back, his fingers digging into the skin. Mal peppered Simon with kisses, dotting around his shoulder and collar bone, then latching onto a nipple. Once Simon's shirt was damp with saliva, Mal pulled back and blew across the wet spot, chilling the skin beneath, bringing the nub to attention. Simon exhaled pleasantly, placed a finger on Mal's lips, and guided their faces together again. They fell into another round of languid kisses then Mal nestled against Simon's side, resting one arm over his chest.
"You're stopping?" Simon asked, disappointment tinging his voice.
"Just waiting for you to wake up a little more."
"I thought I'd let you lead for now. I'm tired of using you to assert my independence from him."
"Hmm," Mal intoned thoughtfully. "Didn't realize that's what you were doing."
Simon shrugged, indicating he hadn't thought too deeply about his motives before. Mal pinched a nipple and Simon's whole body convulsed in surprise.
"Maybe now you can do all those things because it turns me on," Mal suggested devilishly.
Simon pinched back, his eyes glinting with lust. "Yeah? You like when I lead?"
"Lost your chance!" Mal grinned, pouncing on top of Simon, attacking him with nips and kisses. With an unexpected burst of strength, Simon flipped them and suddenly he was on top. He didn't stay for long. They rolled again left, then right, nearly falling off the side of the bed. Mal tried to be gentle because he noticed Simon bracing his injured arm against his torso, but they wrestled so rarely that he didn't want to stop. For only have one good arm, Simon was amazingly agile and powerful. Just to keep things fair, Mal used only one arm too, but he kept switching which one to suit his purpose.
They laughed, rolled, and flipped, exploring every unexercised spring on the mattress. Every now and then, Mal would get the upper hand, then forget why he wanted it in the first place. At one point, Simon pounced Mal's chest a little too high and they both toppled over the edge of the bed, bringing an avalanche of sheets and pillows with them. Mal's head banged against the floor and he landed upside down, his legs still on the bed, his shoulders resting on the deck plates. Simon slid roughly across his torso and kept going, ending up doing a somersault and smacking against the bureau. They were both laughing so hard, they were blind to anything but joy.
Mal blinked at his upside down world and couldn't stop. There was something pure about laughing with Simon. It never had to be at their own expense or anyone else's. It was an explosion of joy sourced from deep within Mal's heart overflowing like bubbles from a Champaign bottle.
Doing a backward roll off the bed, Mal pulled himself to his knees and crawled over to Simon. Every time their eyes met, they broke out laughing again, so Mal gave up on eye contact and started sucking furiously on Simon's up-ended toes. Simon squealed with delight, trying not to flail as Mal kissed up the inside of his leg. The cramped space between the foot of the bed and the bureau wasn't wide enough to stretch out and as Mal kissed up Simon's pretzeled body, he found the confined space kept all of Simon's kissable parts deliciously close. As Mal alternated swiping his tongue between Simon's knees, nethers, and nose, Simon writhed and wriggled. Quickly, he shimmied out from under Mal, flipped over, and fought his way to the foot of the bed.
Grabbing a hold of Simon's ankles, Mal tripped his lover and Simon fell bent over the side of the bed. In a fit of lust, Mal's tongue traced that glorious arc where the Lord had split Simon, only just reaching that sweet spot behind the balls that elicited a delighted yelp. Simon spread instinctively, but squirmed against Mal's grip, his good hand grasping at the bed sheet. Taking the easy hint, Mal kissed rapidly up Simon's spine, hooked an arm across Simon's chest, and hauled them both back onto the bed, and fell on his face next to Simon.
Immediately, Simon flopped onto his back, panting heavily, bracing his right arm with his left. Mal kissed lightly around Simon's shoulders and neck, feeling the tension release as Simon's breathing soothed. Their mouths met and tongues mingled in a slow, deep kiss and Simon used both hands to cradle Mal's chin, one steady, the other trembling. Their fingers intertwined and Mal kissed each one softly.
"How about you rest here a bit," Mal whispered, placing Simon's hands gently on his chest and kissing down the centerline of his body. He lifted Simon's shirt just enough to swirl his tongue in Simon's navel and feel the muscles contract beneath that ivory skin.
Mal's fingers danced in the waistband of Simon's pants, teasing the skin, barely grazing the tip of Simon's cock, then ignoring it firmly. Simon arched his hips up so that Mal could remove the clothes, but Mal forced Simon back to the bed with firm kisses over his crotch.
"I told you to rest," Mal teased as his nose traced the outline of Simon's erection, the pull of the fabric spreading pressure over the entire region. He smirked as he felt Simon swelling. With feather-light fingertips grazing the fabric, he stroked the inside of one leg hip to knee, and then the other. Simon squirmed and shivered, swallowing thickly, bracing his right arm against his chest and clutching his wrist firmly with his left. Mal nuzzled and sucked Simon through the fabric until Simon gasped loudly and shuddered. Pausing to look up, Mal was enraptured by the sight of Simon tense with desire, his eyes pressed shut, his left hand gripping his right so tightly that his skin bruised.
"Open your eyes," Mal whispered gently and he worked Simon's fingers loose with plaintive touches. Simon let go of the breath he'd been holding and panted heavily as his fingers loosened and laced with Mal's. Using their joint hands, Mal caressed Simon's cheek and Simon gazed at him with dusky, lust-filled eyes.
"Please don't stop."
Deciding that he'd teased enough, Mal went straight to removing Simon's pants, aroused by the sight of him already hard and wanting.
Simon phrased it as a question, making it clear that Mal still had the lead, but there was so much hope in his voice that Mal couldn't help but oblige. Gingerly, they removed the shirt and Mal kissed from Simon's wrist to elbow, setting his injured arm gently on the bed in a more open position.
"Okay to leave this here?" he checked and Simon nodded.
Grinning greedily, Mal licked his lips and attacked Simon's body, giving the newly exposed nipples the attention they deserved. He laved in circles, drawing each one to attention then painted a line with his tongue at the indentation of every rib from sternum to side. Simon squirmed under tickles of laughter and Mal captured Simon's lips with his mouth, grinding groin to groin with Simon. Part of him wanted to suck Simon off, but the throb of Simon's cock against his demanded they come off together.
Once the first contact was made, Simon arched his hips, desperate to maintain it. Mal's original plans for slowly plundering Simon's body with his tongue leaked out of his own cock with the pre-cum, moistening the front of his pants. Letting his weight fall heavily on Simon, their bodies took over, thrusting together in frantic rhythm. Simon's tongue fell into rhythm, massaging against Mal's, subtly tweaking the pace until their hips rocked evenly like waves of the ocean. Mal's hands were everywhere and nowhere, touching Simon's face, his hair, his arms, his body. Finally they fell over Simon's own hands and their fingers laced together, further tempering the rhythm of their love making. Or perhaps heightening the sensations. The world narrowed down to the friction of the fabric between their throbbing erections, and the vibrations of need ringing right through their skin. Simon came first, his body stilling, any sounds swallowed in the endless kiss he shared with Mal. He panted and trembled, but Mal refused to release him from the kiss, until Mal came too and had not the air to continue. As Mal cried out his release, Simon grabbed his face with both hands and crushed their lips together, forcing the cry into his mouth. Wrapping arms and legs around Mal, he pressed their bodies together, keeping up friction until Mal thought he'd been milked dry. Then Simon whispered in Mal's ear the dirtiest words he'd ever heard and thrust his tongue in after, bringing a final almost painful spurt of cum.
Now Mal was trembling and Simon nibbled devilishly on his lower lip, arms and legs wrapped possessively around his lover. It took a few minutes before Mal had the sense to kiss back, and he only did it as a defensive strategy to keep Simon's tongue from other mischief.
"Sweet victory," Simon murmured, hugging Mal tighter. "I am my own."
Mal blinked slowly, trying to see through the aftershocks of orgasm and recall how long ago he'd collapsed on Simon. Simon didn't seem too concerned by the weight, though. In fact, he reveled in it.
"How's the arm?"
"Oh, I need a painkiller before the next round," Simon assured breathlessly, more excited than pained. "Because there's gotta be a next round, more glorious than the last. And you've got to get these pants off, because they're wet and making me cold."
Mal covered Simon's mouth with a kiss before it could run off, but Simon pushed him back, swatting at the soaked pants, trying to keep them off his skin. With a grin, Mal pulled back and stripped slowly, making a happy show of it, then used the dry part of one of the pant legs to clean Simon off as much as possible. He went to the bureau to find the painkillers Simon had brought down for himself, but Simon shook his head furiously.
"Uhn-uh. I want the strong stuff."
Mal paused, worried that he may have been too rough, but Simon came behind him, snaking one arm around his waist, and kissing him so fine he just about melted into a puddle.
"The Infirmary," Simon instructed softly. "First cabinet on the left, second shelf, a bottle of rust-colored pills."
Mal placed a hand over Simon's, amused at the instructions, but not following them. Simon looked up expectantly and Mal looked right back.
"Please, please," Simon begged, pulling out those classic puppy eyes. "You wouldn't make me climb the ladder and walk the ship shirtless."
He blinked pathetically and Mal couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe do the second, but I'll give you a pass on the first."
Reluctantly, Mal found some dry clothes and dressed himself for his own quick run of the ship. It was midmorning, so he was bound to run across … probably everyone. But the trip would give him a chance to stop by the galley and he had one more surprise waiting there for Simon.
When Mal returned to their bunk, the lights were dim and Simon sat curled in his reading chair, cloaked in a blanket. It looked like he'd started tidying up and setting things for a surprise of his own, but whatever he'd been doing, he gave up half way through. The bandage that had been around his arm was now draped over the sink. When Mal hit the deck, Simon's head poked from the blanket-cocoon , then a hand poked out too, reaching for the drugs Mal had brought.
"You bust a stitch?"
"No it was wet and itchy," Simon answered, shaking out three pills and swallowing them with no water. Mal knelt by the chair and kissed Simon tenderly, then reached between the blankets to extract and examine Simon's arm. Simon hissed softly, but relaxed as Mal started massaging the muscles around the wound, kneading the tension out of Simon's arm and shoulder. Simon exhaled happily and melted against the back of the chair, watching Mal's hands move over his skin and enjoying the feel. Mal was careful not to get to close to the tender wound, and reveled in each contented sigh he drew from Simon's lips.
"You're very good at that."
"I've been shot once or twice before. I know what it's like."
Simon nodded and leaned forward against Mal's chest, giving Mal better access to his shoulder blade. Mal continued working his fingers deep into the tissue, feeling the vibration of each grunt and groan he milked from Simon. Simon's free hand wandered up Mal's shirt, kneading against his skin, and then he pulled the t-shirt off in a lopsided motion. Mal stopped long enough to shake himself free of the shirt because he didn't want to wear it anyway. When he knelt by the chair again, Simon tipped forward, pressing his lips against the line of Mal's collar bone. Mal placed one hand on the back of Simon's head to still him, then resumed his massage.
"How come you've never done this for me before?" Simon breathed dreamily.
"Never been shot have you? Least not since we got together."
Simon smiled lightly and leaned back in the chair again, taking his arm with him, leaving his hand in Mal's. Mal massaged Simon's hand, over the knuckles, between the fingers, giving attention to every fingernail and kissing lightly when he was done. The ship hummed quietly, filling the silence as much as it needed. Mal settled next to the chair, resting his chin on the lump of blanket he assumed was Simon's knee and Simon's fingers grazed lightly over his face tracing the line of his features.
"And ideas what we can do while we wait for these painkillers to kick in?" Simon asked and Mal grinned immediately.
"I got one," he answered roguishly, standing to retrieve his surprise. "And I do mean I only got one. Some feng leh doctor used all our petty cash paying for a bunch of whiskey that he never drank."
Simon ducked his head abashedly, burrowing into his blanket again and Mal retrieved the peach he'd been hiding in the back recesses of the cooler since he'd found that fruit stand on Kerry the other day. He knelt by Simon's chair again, holding out the peach with one hand, and Simon took it, laughing to himself about something or other.
"You said you never had a fresh one," Mal explained, wondering why he was even talking at all. "Turns out Kerry has a little grove. You're not supposed to take 'em off world, though."
Simon turned the peach over in his hands, running his palm across the skin, then he lifted it to his nose and sniffed it. Mal watched the exploration in delight, setting his chin on Simon's knee again, wondering if he'd be able to find Simon's toes under the blanket.
"Don't squeeze too hard," Mal warned, as Simon continued testing the fruit under his fingers. Simon looked from Mal to the peach, then he licked the peach skin with a broad sweep of his tongue and looked lustily at Mal. Using two fingers, he pulled Mal's chin closer, turned his face sideways and licked across his cheek with the same broad stroke he'd used on the peach.
"It is like peach fuzz!" he cried gleefully and they both started laughing. Mal's forehead fell against Simon's chest, and Simon hugged him close with one hand while holding the peach at eyelevel so he could continue scrutinizing it. Finally, he brought the fruit to his mouth and took the first bite. The sweet nectar splashed from his lips and he groaned with pleasure as he chewed achingly slow, enjoying every second of it. He swallowed happily, gasped for air, and licked over the exposed peach flesh
Mal sat back, trying not to look too covetous of the fruit. "Nope. It's all yours. Figure since you never had one you deserve a whole one."
Simon took another slow bite, watching Mal as he did. Mal's mouth watered with want, but he forced himself to sit back and let Simon enjoy his peach. In his next bite, Simon sheered off a piece cleanly with his front teeth, then held it out to Mal. Mal shook his head.
"It's my peach, and I want to share it," Simon declared, squeezing the fruit more intently as he spoke. The sweet juice drizzled down Simon's fingers as he waited for Mal to take it. Mal swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on the temptation.
"I know you want this," Simon taunted. "More than sex, you want fresh peaches."
"That may be an overstatement," Mal choked, even if it wasn't really.
"I heard you say it," Simon teased, tracing the peach over Mal's lips. Finally Mal took Simon's wrist in his hands, and closed his mouth over the peach and Simon's fingers. The sweet fruit on his tongue nearly sent him to orgasm then and there. He chewed softly, taking his time, reveling in the flavor, then licked every last drop of nectar from Simon's finger, hand, wrist, and even chased that one drop that had gone a little higher.
Simon's legs unfolded, and he pulled Mal into his lap, letting the blanket pool at their waists. They gazed lustily at each other, alternating between bites of the peach and bites of each other.
"Got some on your face," Mal murmured, cupping Simon's chin, and sucking lightly. Simon giggled impishly and held the peach against Mal's bare chest, squeezing just enough to get a few drops of nectar on him.
"Careful! Don't waste it!" Mal cried, but Simon was already leaning forward and licking fervently at the runaway nectar.
"It's my peach and I'll eat it how I want," Simon retorted. He brushed the peach against Mal's lips, then devoured those as well. The sweetness of the peach mixed with the taste of Simon and Mal felt he was falling in love anew. Simon pulled back from the kiss and Mal nipped after him, then started nipping at the peach that Simon was waving in the air. Simon caught Mal's lips again, distracting him just long enough to get his hand in the waistband of Mal's clothes. All of the sudden, the peach was pressed against Mal's belly and the nectar dripping down.
"Best get those pants off," Simon whispered hotly in his ear. "Can't be wasting good peach juice."
Mal paused, looking at the crushed peach in Simon's fingers, one lust fighting another. Deciding the peach was a loss, he stepped off of Simon's lap and stripped out of his pants. Simon scooted out of the chair after him, falling to his knees, his mouth on Mal's cock before the pants even made it to his ankles. Mal's feet froze and he nearly tipped forward. Simon's hands rested against his hips, one still holding the peach letting the juice trickle down his thigh.
Simon curled his tongue around Mal's cock, pulling back to tease the tip then sliding forward. Every few strokes, he'd bring the peach near, run it up the side of Mal's shaft, then lick the nectar off. Mal kept one hand on Simon's shoulder to steady himself, and the other waved through the air, searching for support. Simon held up the remains of the peach and pressed it into Mal's flailing hand, squelching the juice between them.
"Bite it," Simon ordered breathily as his nectar-covered hand fondled Mal's balls, coating them as well. Mal bit into the peach, tasting both Simon and himself on it, and his knees went weak. Simon's hands were on his hips immediately, holding him up, and the remains of the peach fell to the floor, all but forgotten. Holding up his sticky fingers, Simon let Mal lap the nectar off, slowly, sensuously. Mal shivered and spread his legs wider, as Simon licked the nectar off his balls with the flat of his tongue. He held on for dear life when Simon slipped saliva-slickened fingers into his opening, then hooked them and grazed his prostate. He bit back shouts of bliss as he thrust alternately into Simon's mouth, then back against his fingers. His body tightened with mounting release, driven mad by Simon's ministrations and the sweet taste of peaches all over. He came with a deep-hearted cry loud enough for the whole ship to hear. Simon sucked him completely dry, catching him as his knees buckled. Grunting with strain, Simon hefted Mal and tipped him face down on the bed, then immediately pounced on top of him, peppering his over-sensitized skin with kisses.
"Yes, no, yes, no," Mal whimpered alternately, not sure he could take any more of Simon's tongue, but wanting it desperately. Simon forced Mal's thighs open again and raised his hips, burrowing his head under to get any of the nectar he'd missed off the front of Mal's thighs. Mal's muscles quivered with strain, but Simon didn't stay long. His fingers played delicately across Mal's trembling skin, and his tongue teased mercilessly along the crack of Mal's ass.
"Please," Mal begged. "Fuck me, Simon! Please! Now! Please."
A part of him hoped his voice wasn't loud enough to carry through the walls, but the rest of him didn't care. He'd warned Simon he would beg shameless for this, and Simon never made him beg for long… until now.
Simon dragged his body over Mal's, his hardened cock barely pressing against Mal's crack. Shakily, Mal reached for the lube, but his arms were trembling too violently to grab hold. Simon's tongue thrust into his ear and he cried out as his cock hardened anew.
"No, Simon, please," Mal begged, needing a break. Not wanting one. He gave up on words and just panted desperate and plaintive cries, hoping Simon would understand. Simon lifted Mal's hips just enough to wrap a hand around his cock and Mal whimpered, pleading for rest. At the same time, he thrust back against Simon, trying to force the encounter. Mal's hand reached for the lube again, but his vision was shaking as much as his fingers.
"I got it," Simon whispered soothingly in his ear, mercifully reaching past him for the jar. Mal's hips fell to the bed again, crushing his erection between his stomach and the mattress. He rocked back against Simon, not wanting to wait for the lube. When felt Simon's weight lift off him briefly, he sobbed, begging all the more to be touched. Then in one swift thrust, Simon was inside of him.
They waited a moment as Mal adjusted to the intrusion. He felt the bed damp underneath of him, and rubbed against it to get friction on his own cock as Simon started working inside of him. How long had it been since they'd done this front to back? It was like new all over again. Simon was hitting spots and matching angles they hadn't achieved in ages and Mal clutched the bed sheets desperately as though they contained his consciousness. He would not pass out, he told himself.
"Harder," Mal begged and Simon quickened his pace. Ever the cautious lover, Simon always started gentle and made Mal beg for more. Mal knew that if Simon ever even once truly broke Mal – saw blood – that the whole gig would probably be up for a good long while. Peaches and sex, Mal didn't care anymore!
Simon stopped his rhythm and pulled Mal's hips up roughly. He slid most of the way out until only the very tip of him was in Mal. Then he slammed in so hard Mal saw stars.
"Yes!" Mal cried. "Simon, yes!"
Simon repeated the move, pounding forcefully into Mal. Mal arched and turned, reaching back for a kiss, but Simon pulled out of him quickly, flipped him over, then shoved back in. Surprised at the sudden turn and the fresh air against his cock, Mal writhed against Simon, only calming again when Simon tipped forward to kiss him. As Simon hammered in at this new angle, Mal had to fight all the harder for consciousness.
Forcing himself to breathe, Mal looked up at Simon. Their eyes met first, then their hands, and for a moment the world around him melted into that peace and contentedness that Mal shared only with Simon. His heart raced as Simon held up their joint hand, flaunting the rings on their fingers, then kissing over his knuckles. Damn talented, Simon was, all tender in his face, all steel pounding into him. Simon took their joint hands, fisting around Mal's exposed cock, developing a vigorous rhythm.
"Come," Mal whispered, and Simon threw his head back, coming forcefully inside of him. The pressure set Mal ablaze again and he came in their joint hands.
Mal kissed Simon slowly, reveling the fading taste of peaches for as long as it lasted. They cuddled on the only dry part of the bed they could find, wrapped around each other inside a single blanket.
"Maybe I can start callin' you 'Peaches'," Mal murmured, pressing the flat of his tongue behind Simon's ear in a wild, ticklish manner.
Simon turned sharply, leaving quick teasing kisses on Mal's lips, not giving him a chance to latch on. "If you start, Jayne will pick up on it and start too, just to rile me."
Mal grinned evilly. "That might be fun."
Simon rolled his eyes, and nestled against Mal's neck, trying to get comfortable despite the fact that they were both sticky with cum and nectar. It probably wasn't even midday, but he couldn't imagine either of them had the strength to leave their bunk without a good, solid nap. Simon was tensing like he needed more medicine, but he didn't want to move and Mal further discouraged him by massaging his arm again. Simon curled into him, sighing gently, enjoying the massage without trying to return the favor.
"I can't decide if that was a waste of a good peach or the best peach I ever had," Mal mused and Simon smiled softly against Mal's chest. He sucked Simon's fingers lightly, but the taste of nectar was long since gone from there.
"I'm leaning toward the first," Mal joked
Simon mock-pouted at him. "Well if you really feel that way, I'll get you another peach."
"Don't see how. By the time we're on Kerry again, they'll be out of season."
"I have ways," Simon assured coyly, and impish smile rising to his lips.
With a nod of his head, Simon indicated a brown paper bag folded neatly over the top, sitting on the bureau. He must have set it there when he first sent Mal out to the Infirmary! Hopeful, but trying not to hope too much, Mal rolled out of their blanket and stepped gingerly to the bureau. It hurt to walk, but in a delicious, aching, well and truly fucked kind of way. Would this be like the rings all over again?
He looked back at Simon and Simon nodded encouragingly. When he opened the bag, there were five more peaches inside. Five!
"How did –?" he stammered, his jaw hanging too slack to say more.
Simon smiled sweetly, making those eyes that conveyed a thousand endearments in a single expression of love. "Suffice it to say, I still owe Jayne for that whiskey."