A Far Cry

(Characters: Not ours, Joss' - we're just playin' with 'em)

(A/N: Takes place about a month after the Firefly series right before Inara is about to leave Serenity. Mal has reluctantly agreed to Inara's scheme to keep Serenity (and Mal) off the Alliance's radar by seducing a powerful Alliance Admiral to get information they need.)

A Far Cry


His large frame stretched across the smallish bed, Mal eventually decided he couldn't concentrate on the gorram book in his hand. Tossing it onto the table, he shut the lights. His room went completely dark.

Shifting the pillows, he rolled over onto his side. It still burned him up that she'd offered to whore for him. For him.

Worse. He couldn't do a thing to stop her.

Unless he thought of something by morning, when they'd be landing on Persephone. Maybe he'd dream up an idea. They did seem to come to him at nights.

Forcing his eyes shut, he concentrated on relaxing and getting to sleep.

Just as he was drifting off, a light knock on the door sounded. It was barely a tap, but it was amplified by the metallic bulkhead and the relative quiet of the ship. The tap came again, this time a little louder and followed by a soft voice.

"Mal...?"

"Yeah, I'm awake. Come in." He swung his legs over the side of the bed just as the lights went on and she came inside.

It was disconcerting, to say the least. A woman, in his space. And not just any woman. Inara, with her silky thin shawl, clinging and revealing her figure more than hiding anything. He let out a sigh and spoke more harshly than he intended. "What do you want?"

The silk fabric of her night clothing billowed around her as she descended the step ladder into his bunk. When she turned around, she met his eyes as if reading his thoughts and implicitly understanding why his greeting was somewhat less then gracious.

"I couldn't sleep..." she answered simply, her gaze skimming over his bare chest as she took a tentative step toward him.

"You want me to help you sleep?" He couldn't help staring, especially when she came to a stop right in front of him. So close, he could feel the warmth emanating from her body. He swallowed. "I think maybe a warm glass of milk might be more... effective."

"No..." she said with a slight shake of her head. It wasn't clear whether she was answering his question or responding to his suggestion. It didn't matter. Even as she spoke, her eyes traced the crescent shaped scar that marred his otherwise flawless chest. Impulsively she lifted her left hand to follow the line with her finger, dragging it feather light across the imperfection.

His breath caught as her touch sent a jolt through his system and kicked his heart up a notch. Eyes locked with hers, he caught her hand, before it did any more damage... before she brought him to his knees. "Inara?" He raised his face and started to lean forward, inching closer to collect the kiss he's wanted on the bridge.

As if caught up in his cadence, the motion of his hand gripping her wrist took her breath away. Mesmerized, she stared into his eyes. "Mal..." she answered him, her soft voice brushed his lips -- a tantalizing appetizer of the feast she'd only dared to dream.

He never closed his eyes when their lips met. At first, it was a chaste kiss, but his mind was hardly on chaste matters as he traced the outline of her mouth, with his. The raised ridges, the soft smoothness of her skin, the way he felt her lips bow under his, it quickened his desire. One minute he was gentle, the next, he reached out for her and pulled her down on his lap. With his hand behind her head, fingers threaded through her hair, he pulled her closer and pushed his tongue passed her lips.

Like a waterfall merging with a mountain lake, Inara collapsed into him in a torrent of kisses. Companion training forgotten, her body molded naturally against his as her caresses smooth over the hard curves of his muscles. Cradled in his lap, she felt him pressing against her backside, causing a sharp intake of breath as heat pooled in her core.

His mouth burned. His skin tightened around him. Anticipation made him swell and harden as she responded to him. Pushing her down on the bed, he vowed she would forget all her other men. That his name would be the last she'd cry out from here on.

With his finger tips, he pulled her shawl aside, uncovering the vast expanse of creamy skin exposed by one of her dresses which hid nothing from a man's imagination. Aching to touch, to taste, he met her gaze once again.

Her back arched in anticipation, her body was a wasteland thirsting for his touch. "Malcolm... please..." she begged as her hands roved over his bare skin, finding his hand and coaxing him to slide it up her side to cup the underside of her breast. "I've wanted you for so long..."

Inara's voice was ragged and breathy, her eyes half lidded, her nipples strained against the nearness of his touch as if seeking his lips. "Only you..."

It was what every man... what he wanted to hear. For once, she was speaking her mind, letting him read her like a book. And he reckoned readin' had never been so exciting. Fighting to steady his hand, he cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb over her nipple, giving a satisfied smile when it peaked under the thin material of her dress.

Just as started to tug the material down, a harsh knock sounded. He was going to kill Jayne. Kill him.

And there it was again.

"Inara, I..." he muttered, and found the bed empty but found the bed empty of the warm, compliant Inara. Of course it was... since that was her insistent voice outside the door.

Letting out a string of oaths, Mal swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, I'm coming. You won't be late for your gorram frog humping appointment," he muttered, trying not to think of her and the lucky Admiral who would be the one who got her kisses, her smiles. Her attention.


* * * * * * * *

"You're really something else, Mal..." Inara snapped angrily as she ended the transmission with the Admiral's ship. Turning in the pilot's seat of her shuttle, she faced the captain. "I can't believe you're actually going through with this. What do you think he's going to do? A man of Admiral Walker's rank isn't about to risk his reputation by harming a companion."

Shaking her head and turning back to the console she made some adjustments and pulled back on the throttle to slow their speed as they approached for docking. "You know, you could have taken the other shuttle and just shadowed me," she paused a beat and her voice softened. "You don't have to do this, Mal..."

"Neither do you," he challenged, every muscle and limb in his body tight with tension. "But I'll be damned if you're going to confront the man about his son and risk your life for me... while I'm hiding in some other shuttle with my hands tied to help you."

Inara kept her eyes fixed on the controls as she maneuvered in for the landing. Were her true motives really so transparent? She'd told herself she was doing this for River and Simon, for Rein... for all of them. But if she was being truthful with herself, it was for him.

She didn't say another word until they were docked and she stood up. "You stay here. I mean it Mal," she looked at him sternly, meeting his eyes for only a moment before she pulled herself away and turned her back to him, pausing as she pulled aside the thin curtain that separated the cockpit from the main part of the shuttle. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't. What good would it do?

Silently she stepped through the bulkhead and closed the curtain behind her just as a knock sounded on the main shuttle door.

He'd opened his mouth in one last attempt to dissuade her, but found the curtains drawn in front of his face before he said a single word. There was a hissing sound, the door. Inara's voice welcoming the Admiral. The exchange of pleasantries.

Mal's urge to pace got stronger by the minute. He supposed she couldn't get right to the point with the man, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy the pictures he was getting in his mind, listening to her helping him take off his coat.

On the other side of the curtains, the Admiral, a tall man with silver streaked dark hair but the flawlessly smooth skin of a man two decades his junior, smiled down at the companion. "You're far more beautiful than your pictures. They do you no justice at all."

"Thank you," Inara replied, as she coaxed him to settle into a seat on the bed. The companion's every movement so graceful and natural that the man would have no inkling that he played the starring role in an expertly choreographed dance.

"Can I get you something? Tea, wine, hot cocoa?" she smiled charmingly as her fingers began kneading his shoulders. She already knew his beverage preferences, but it was important for him to believe that she was simply being a gracious host in order to create the illusion that she was something more then a paid courtesan.

When he closed his eyes against her touch, Inara glanced at the filmy curtain, the only hint that she hadn't forgotten who was behind it.

"Mmmm, that feels good. Some wine."

Mal clenched his teeth and looked up. No doubt she'd started her whoring already. Why couldn't she just ask him some questions then claim a headache and kick his gorram ass out.

The admiral clinked his glass against hers and then took a sip. "Sit down. Next to me, he suggested," his gaze clinging to her curves. "I enjoy being touched."

Inara took a small sip of her wine and set it down. It was important that she remain clear headed if she were going to get any information out of him. As if accepting an invitation, she reached out and stroked his chest, allowing her fingers to feather over him, applying pressure at precise points to maximize his pleasure sensations.

"I must say Admiral... you're in remarkable shape," she smoothed her palm over each plane of his torso as she leaned her head in so her hair brushed across his neck. "Your voice... it's so strong... viril." She maneuvered carefully, it was a tricky dance, but if she could get him talking about himself, she could drop hints about his son... let him know he's alive.

Tuning herself into his breathing, she took the fragile wine flute from his hand and set it on the table. She leaned into him again, pressing her lips to his neck, coaxing him to open up. "Tell me about yourself admiral..."

Strong. Viril. Each of her words were like the twist of a knife crossed with the caterwauling of a Tom cat. But one thing he hated even more was when her words were muffled. Stemmed by a kiss?

He knew this was her job, accepted it... well, maybe not fully. But this was different. She was doing it in his name, and he didn't like it. A voice in the back of his head joined the choir. She's whoring with THE Admiral. One that whopped your ass. The one that crumbled the browncoats.

His hands balled at his sides, Mal forced himself to stand still. To clamp down on his temper and boiling blood and give her a chance to do what she said.

"Mmm, how about a kiss first? Let's see what's in store for me..." he laughed as she easily moved into his arms. The long, slow kiss left him burning for more. He cleared his throat. "I was told you're the best, I must agree. Not only lovely, but talented."

Inara's movements were practiced, but somehow organic. She responded to each touch with the precision of a surgeon, careful not to give too much... leaving him wanting her more as each breath past his lips. When his pulse quickened and she knew he was primed to bend to her will, she spoke again.

"I must confess Admiral, I chose you for selfish reasons..." she looked at him through thick lashes. "I read your profile... you are not only a brilliant strategist..." she stroked him, moving her hand in soft circles over his. "But do you want to know what makes me burn like this...?" she lifted his hand and placed it over her breast, consciously forcing her body to react to his touch.

He didn't want her burning, though Mal's gut was burning to cinders. Get to the point, he wanted to shout. Just get to the gorram point! His pulse throbbed at his temple, he could almost hear its beat.

"I've lived a long time, and I've met a lot of women," he rasped. "Power. That is the common draw," he said unabashed, biting back an oath as she eluded a kiss.

"Don't take this the wrong way, my dear. But I have a schedule to keep, and though I would love nothing more than to linger, today, I can't. We'll do this again sometime, and you can dazzle me with your conversational skills," he pulled the straps of her dress down, exposing her supple breast. "But right now, what I need is a few good kisses, and to feel you. Then you can service me, I've heard it is your specialty. And with that mouth... I can well believe it..."

Inara's eyes flashed as she realized he hadn't taken her bait. "Admiral... please..." she braced herself to gain some purchase against him, placing her hands on his shoulders to push him off. "You didn't let me finish..." she gasped as he kissed her savagely, undoing his pants as he slammed his tongue into her mouth.

That was it, he was at the end of his tether. The curtains bunched in Mal's fists as he tore them down and strode toward the couple on the sofa. There wasn't even a warning. He simply grabbed the Admiral by the scruff of his neck, pulled him back, and punched him in the face.

Once. Twice. A third time.

When the surprised older man started to defend himself, Mal shoved him up against the wall. "Consider yourself... serviced. Now get the hell out."

"Look here," the Admiral touched his jaw and gave Mal a warning look.

"You look here. I've been waiting for a re-match for years. Give me an excuse." It took a minute, but Mal knew the instant the Admiral recognized him. There was another duel, a battle of wills as they stared at each other. But when Mal raised an eyebrow, the man picked up his coat and left.

Spinning around, Mal walked to Inara. She'd paled, and looked like she was shaking. He put his arms around her, aware that her clothes were down at her waist, but at that moment only wanting to offer her comfort. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him with eyes wide as a doe, instantly melting into him as her body quaked against his. "I'm sorry... I don't know what I was thinking..." she apologized, her lips trembling against his neck as she spoke. "He would have..." she choked at the thought of what the powerful man could have done to her.

Swallowing hard, she tilted her head to look up at him. "All I could think about was you... Mal... I.... I..." her lips parted slightly as she sought his, needing his touch to erase the memory of the despicable man.

"About me... I was alright. He never touched me," he smiled reassuringly. "So I broke your concentration then?" It was a victory of sorts, she was after all a professional.

Inara smiled coyly, the warmth of his strong arms soothing her trembling. "Yes, I dare say you did..." she admitted, lips brushing his as she looked into his eyes.

He slid his hand down her bare back, feeling his body tighten with desire. "Inara, I shouldn't be... I'll leave, he offered. Until you get dressed."

But that wasn't what he wanted to do. Not by a long shot. He wanted to soothe those trembling crimson lips with his own. He wanted to hold her small frame, envelope her, show her how it could be. If she stayed.

"Or..." she countered, her breath mingling with his. "...you could stay while I undress..." And with nothing more then a shift of her hips, the translucent layers of fabric fell away leaving her completely exposed to him as she held his gaze.

"I'm staying, then." His voice was thick. Tearing his gaze from hers, he looked at her. Every damned perfect inch he'd only just imagined before. Her perfectly rounded breasts, narrow waist, and curves a man could really get a hold of. And the long legs... he swallowed hard as his gaze skimmed their apex.

"Good," Inara's voice was breathy, seductive without even trying. She was trained not to be self-conscious, but the way he looked at her... with complete all-consuming desire, it made her tremble under his gaze.

Allowing his cues to guide her, she reached out a tentative hand, uncertain at first, but growing bolder as she felt him respond to her touch. She undressed him slowly, breaking every rule she'd ever been taught as she brazenly raked her gaze over his form, caressing him with her eyes.

Mal's jaw clenched at the riot of sensations that rocked through his body under her every touch and stroke. It felt like it took billions of light years to get there, but he was now as naked as she was, and damned but if he didn't burn under the look in her eyes.

Every nerve in his body was on alert. Even her gentle breaths skimming across his shoulder sent heat to his goin. Skin against skin. It was time. He closed the gap between them, putting one hand around her waist to draw her up hard against him, while he nuzzled and kissed her neck and throat, burying his face in her luxuriously soft hair.

Her head fell back and she mewled in helpless surrender. She lost herself to him completely and when he pulled her close, she felt her whole body throb with unquenched desire. But for their ragged breaths and soft moans it was as if they existed in the soundless vacuum of space, drawn to each other by the unyielding force of a black hole.

"Malcolm..." she uttered his name as she pulled his face up to hers, staring into the depths of his soul before she captured his lips in a long anticipated kiss.

Every part of her clung to him. Her arms, her eyes, her mouth. Oh yeah, this was exactly what he thought it would be like to be the center of her 'verse. And damned if he couldn't get good and settled here.

He kissed her back, filling her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers. Catching the small sounds she made. Slowly inching to that point of no return.

He needed more. Demanded more. Funny thing was, she gave it to him. No argument, no struggle, no little twists or turns. Everything he wanted, she gave him.

Sliding his hand downs down her waist, and lower, he cupped her rear and molded her against him. Instantly, his groin surged. Ached and throbbed until he thought he couldn't bear it a moment longer. "Inara," he whispered, thick with need, as he lifted her up against him and carried her to her bed.

With her arms around his neck, Inara curled against him, not letting go until he lay next to her. Instinctively her hand trailed down his body until she felt his arousal, her fingers moving in tentative exploration, touching and stroking as their lips came together in hungry kisses.

But she wanted more... wanted all that he was offering her. Kisses trailed down his chest, tenderly tracing each scar with her tongue as she descended the length of his body. Her breast grazed his erection and she sucked in a ragged breath as she paused to bask in the sensations rippled over her.

"Laotian, yes!" he croaked, almost coming off the bed at her touch. "There, touch me there again," he demanded, lifting himself up on his elbows to watch her every move. He'd never thought sex was a pretty sight. But Inara made it beautiful, every, her every move was artistic. Hell, he could learn to appreciate the opera if it made him feel like this.

She looked up at him through thick lashes as her tongue flicked out and circled the tip, tasting him as if he were a fine wine to be savored. "Touch you... like this...?" she invited him to tell her what he liked. She licked her lips and opened her mouth, sheathing him as she moved down his length. His encouraging moans fueled her passion as she set a rhythm, her body curling around him so she could feel each part of him react to touch.

After giving her a few more instructions, it became abundantly clear that she didn't need any tips from him. She played his body like and instrument, drawing heat, and pain, making him swell and throb, giving him relief only to take it away with the next flick of her tongue, or a view of her breasts, or by moving her hand lower to cup his sack. Unable to help himself, he lifted his hips, urging her to take more of him. He was so close to the edge, so close to coming that he ought to stop... but he couldn't, not when sensations rocked him with an intensity he'd never felt before.

Inara's pulse quickened as she sensed his growing need. She continued her movements in a steady rhythm, fully intending to bring him crashing over the edge of everything he desired. His strangled cries signaled his release and she swallowed hard, taking in all of him. When he'd finally settled, she crawled up the smooth plane of his body and curled her leg over his hips, murmuring breathlessly as her heart still pounded in her chest.

"Didn't mean to do that," he said a bit sheepishly. But by the time he hand his arms around her again, his body was responding as if he hadn't been spent only seconds ago. With a wide, grin, he shifted and helped her to stradle him. "Don't think it's going to be a problem though, bao bei."


"Oh!" she exclaimed as she felt him rising beneath her. She shifted her hips experimentally, mewling her pleasure when she felt him responding as she slid her slick apex against his hardening length. "No... I don't think it's going to be a problem at all..." she agreed in a throaty whisper as she lifted her hips and slowly lowered herself over him.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he filled her, pressing against her pleasure center as he bucked his pelvis into her. Closing her eyes, she moved against him, rotating her hips in a seductive motion, her own needs growing more insistent each time she lifted and rocked him deeper inside her heated core.

The last round had been for him. This time... this time he wanted to make sure she got what she needed, and by the looks of it, they were off to a damned good start. He just had to keep his head, and make sure of it.

He slid his hands up and down her thighs and waist, feeling her muscles flex and strain with every earth shaking movement of her body. When she leaned back, he supported her weight, groaning out loud when her long hair brushed across his knees. He gripped her hips, setting her down firmer against him as he thrust, alternating long and short strokes, taking her cues when she gave them.

When she opened her eyes, they were fuzzy and glazed with desire. Insistent, he pulled her down on him for a kiss. The long, heated exchange spiked his lust. He rolled her over onto her back, and lifted her leg around his waist.

"Oh... God! Mal..." she cried out as he entered her again, thrusting in deep never ending strokes. Breathless, she clutched at his back, curling into him as her entire body blazed with desire.

"Please... yes...." she whimpered as her body clenched around him, pulling him deeper then she imagined possible. A wave started to roll over her, she felt herself slipping carelessly over the edge. Pulling his head back, she found his lips and devoured him in fevered kisses as her climax came in a crashing explosion that caused her to cry out a string of rapturous Chinese exclamations culminating the crystal clear words, "I love you..."

He drowned in her words, words that stroked his ego, that told him she wasn't as unaffected as she'd made out for months. And when she said the "L" word, his victory was complete. But only for an instant.

Like a freezing cold barrel of water poured over his head, Mal woke with a start. Love... yeah... dream. He leaned his head back against the pillow and let out a loud sigh. He was hot, his skin clammy with a fine sheen of moisture. It had been so real... so real until the end.

Tomorrow she'd say "goodbye." That was a far cry from "I love you," that was for certain.

(A/N: Please comment)