I haven't written Firefly in what has to be years, but I finished the No Power In The 'Verse comics recently (yes, I was behind) and I rewatched the show again and got a hankering for writing some Mal/Inara. It's my first foray into smut for this particular couple, so hopefully my attempt ain't too poor and you'll all enjoy this.

Ever since Zoe announced her pregnancy, everything about life on the ship had been a little more harrowing.

She insisted that she should still do her part, and for the first trimester, Mal agreed. But now, as her belly began to swell and her feet began to hurt and her balance shifted, he insisted more often than not that she stay behind on the ship. The insistence had led to a few brief spats between captain and mate. But Zoe was extremely intelligent, and she knew her own limitations. They all knew that she would protect her and Wash's baby with her life, and she slowly and regretfully backed off.

Without Zoe, jobs became a bit more dangerous. And so when Mal and the others came home, the rush of relief that Inara felt was all the more intense.

And now that she and Mal were…well…insert whatever euphemism the rest of the crew used with those knowing grins, she could take him back to the bunk and get to doing what she did best.

Both of them were naked from the waist up, lips and tongues tangling, moving slowly because they were both so grateful that they had time. Mal was a good kisser. Perhaps it was the nature of being a companion, or perhaps just the nature of being human, but Inara wondered if he kissed so well from practice or a natural talent. Either way, she was glad. She'd come to realize that there were very few men who actually were good kissers – despite the high percentage who believed it of themselves.

He moved to kissing her neck, a hand coming up to lightly palm one of her breasts, and Inara sighed. Some of her clients had been good lovers. But there was almost always that feeling of obligation for Inara, a need to put her own wishes aside to make the most of the experience for the client. It was mostly the women that gave Inara the ability to relax, and to take a little bit from the experience herself. With the men, it was mostly chance. Sometimes she was sexually compatible with a man, and that made the encounter more enjoyable for her. When she wasn't, she faked it all. She was good at that.

But it wasn't like this with any of her male clients. Malcolm Reynolds could be absolutely infuriating and frustrating but not when they were in their bunk. Never when they were in their bunk. Good an' proper, he called it, his determination to love her thoroughly. She supposed part of it was an overpowering need in his mind to be memorable, mentally trying to imagine what all her clients were like over the years and doing whatever he could to stand apart. She'd told him, many times in the months they'd been together, that it wasn't necessary to try quite so hard. She'd developed a strong affection for many of her repeat clients, but she was in love with the captain. That alone was enough to set him above the rest. Everything else he did just sent them both into the stars.

Mal trailed his hand up and down her bent leg as he kept kissing her, muttering something against her neck that she couldn't quite make out. She ran her hand through his hair – he had a deceptive amount of it, and when he lifted up and tugged at the buttons on his shirt, she sat up with him and helped him be rid of it. His body had several scars, a few of which might be considered unseemly, but to Inara they were something of a secret between the two of them, despite the fact that he never really went into detail about how they came to be. Others didn't see them. The way that made her feel might be a little odd – after all, her work taught her that sharing oneself with many could be incredibly empowering. But despite the way she'd been brought up, she still loved that she had all of him and no one else did.

"Scoot on down," Mal mumbled, his voice low and husky, and she felt her body flush. Atherton Wing wasn't the only client to point out that she was a blusher, and that such a thing was rare for companions. It had made her more appealing, she figured. This was one way that Mal was like her clients. His eyes always darkened along with a slightly smug smirk when he saw her like this. "Bizui," she said, feigning annoyance.

He grinned. "I didn't say anything."

She moved to the edge of the bed, her eyes locked on his as he dropped down to his knees on the floor, grabbing one of the rugs she'd brought from the shuttle to make himself more comfortable. She hooked her fingers and eased her lingerie down her hips (Mal often teased her about wearing such delicate underthings when her wardrobe nowadays consisted of clothing more often associated with Zoe). He tugged them over her feet and scooted up between her thighs, placing wet kisses on both of them. Inara sighed, closing her eyes, her breath hitching when his nose bumped against where she wanted him. She felt his lips on the inside of her left thigh again, and her eyes opened. "Mal."

He kept trailing kisses, getting high, then switching sides, sometimes flicking against her soft skin with his tongue. Inara bit her lip. Her muscles were clenching with want, her legs trembling. Don't make me ask you. Some of her clients requested that she beg for them. She didn't mind doing it when it was for her job. But it wasn't her favorite aspect of being a companion – most of the clients to request it had happened to be the more degrading ones. She had confessed this to Mal shortly after they'd given in to their feelings. It had been one of the most difficult admissions she'd made thus far in her life, but, merciful Buddha, he'd been understanding.

Seemingly understanding that she'd had enough of the teasing, Mal shifted his weight and his tongue began to stroke her in long, vertical sweeps. Inara bit down on her lower lip, blowing out a breath through her nose, throwing her head back and groaning softly as he continued, parting her with his lips and brushing his tongue against her sensitive flesh. "Mal…"

His arms were wrapped around her legs and his fingers curled and uncurled along her skin, adding to the sensations that his mouth was creating. He hummed against her, the vibrations shooting through her entire body. "Lao tian ye," she gasped, leaning harder against her arms, locked straight to prop herself up.

Mal's mouth moved higher, locking around the dark bud of nerves, and when he added suction Inara thought her head was going to pop right off. "Shit," she said in English, her breath growing heavier as her fingers desperately tried to curl around the bedspread.

His tongue flicked against her, then began to trace counter clockwise. "Lao tian ye," she said again, gasping, pushing her hips forward against him, wanting even more. Mal obliged, increasing the pace and pressure, switching to clockwise, then flicking against her again, releasing one of her legs to free up his hand in case he'd need it. Inara whimpered. Mal pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against her, moving rapidly back and forth, and Inara's arms went limp as she fell back against the thin mattress, a leg jerking as pleasure shot through her body. "Oh, my God," she breathed, putting a hand over her eyes and panting.

Mal kept his mouth on her, prolonging her high, then placed light, soothing kisses on the insides of her thighs. Then he stood, leaning over her, one of his hands resting on her belly, fingers splayed. He smiled down at her affectionately, and she tipped her head to the side, resisting the urge to giggle. She'd gotten so good at convincing her clients that she was genuine that until Mal, she'd almost forgotten what it was like to react naturally. It was nice to remember.

"Come here," she said, smiling as she moved back up the bed, and Mal's fingers worked deftly at the button on his trousers. Inara watched him as he undressed. Once upon a time, he had been a bit self – conscious. Now, it seemed as if her looking at him like this, with her eyes dark and her toes absentmindedly curling around the bedspread, only served to turn him on.

He crawled back onto the bed, hovering over her and dropping his head to kiss her soundly. Inara placed her hands on the back of his neck, kissing him back and lifting her legs to wrap around him as he settled on top of her. He grunted, shifting his weight, and one of her hands slid to his back, running her fingers over one of his scars.

"'Nara," he breathed into her mouth as he shifted his hips and positioned himself at her entrance. She was ready for him, as ready as he was for her, but he still moved slowly, sliding into her inch by inch until she completely surrounded him. "Shì," she breathed as he began to move, pumping his hips slowly and rhythmically. Even in all her training, she couldn't understand why the one man she loved was the one who felt the best inside her. Perhaps it was luck. Perhaps fate. Or perhaps love enhanced everything else. She almost didn't care to know. It was strange how loving someone often meant one stopped needing answers for everything.

Every thrust brushed that spot inside her and her arousal coated him generously as they rocked together, making him moan against her neck, where his lips were marking her. Thankfully the shirts she wore nowadays had higher collars, because makeup was hard to come by out in the black and despite everyone on the ship knowing about their relationship, Inara still wanted to maintain some measure of privacy. Kaylee paraded her hickeys, much to the doctor's embarrassment.

"Fang xin," Mal assured her, don't worry. He knew how high he could go. He knew what spots she could hide.

She tightened around Mal, deliberately and well – timed, and he groaned, increasing his pace, forcing her to change to keep up with him. The faster pace was drawing her quickly back to where she'd been just minutes earlier, gasping his name and biting her lip to keep quiet. Most vocalization she gave when with a client was done to boost their egos. It still, even five months on, surprised her how vocal she wanted to be whenever Mal was loving her. But this was his – their – quarters, not her soundproof shuttle.

"Lao tian ye, Inara" Mal groaned, resting his weight on one of his forearms as the other went down to grip her hip. The shift in weight gave her access to his neck, and her mouth placed sloppy kisses on his hot skin. His hand went down between them, rubbing at her, and her lips released from his neck as a sharp sound rushed between them. The combination of his hand and his movement inside her made her go cross eyed, and it wasn't much longer before her vision was blurring and her legs were shaking as she came apart around him, pulsing hard.

Mal groaned loudly, thrusting more vigorously, and she tightened her legs around him, feeling him shudder on top of her as he exploded, hips jerking, then going still, then jerking again. She could hear and feel his breathing as he buried his head into the crook of her neck.

He lifted his head and looked at her, both of them smiling, and then he dipped his head down to brush his lips against hers again. He loved kissing her. He'd even told her as much, once, when they lay tangled up, her back against his chest, their relationship still incredibly new. She believed him. It was easy to believe him.

"You sure do make this old heart pound, 'Nara," he said, brushing a lock of hair back over the top of her head.

"Can't you feel mine?" She asked, noting their chests pressed together.

Mal's voice was soft, low. "Quite."

He rolled off of her, settling on his side, and she turned to face him, brushing the back of her hand along his cheek. "Long hard day," she commented.

"Hmmm. Much improved now." He rested a hand on her hip. "You reckon any of 'em heard us?"

"Simon and Kaylee are probably up to the same," Inara said. "River is likely with Zoe, and Jayne's piloting tonight. I think we're okay."

"Even with Jayne piloting?" he quipped. She gave a little laugh and buried her head in his chest.