I'll Take That as a Yes
folder
1 through F › Firefly
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,522
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Firefly
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,522
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Firefly, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
I'll Take That as a Yes
The slide of the bridge door snatches Wash from his reverie.
He’s bent over the instrument panel, wrapping up the 12-hour checklist. When he turns, and his eyes meet Mal’s, the familiar uncertainty passes between them instantly, crackling like an electric current.
In the late evenings, when Mal comes up on the bridge, it always goes one of two ways. The door stays open and they talk. Or Mal closes the door behind him and they don’t. Never any combination of the two.
The captain comes closer and Wash is whispering frantically to him in Chinese – there’s no one else to hear, but whispering makes him less embarrassed – now is really not a good time, he says, his tone more tense than usual. Wash seems more emphatic, for sure, but then again, they almost always go through this little song and dance. Mal figures it’s something Wash needs to do, something to do with not being sly, and he can respect that. We all got our different ways of making sense of the ‘verse after all.
But Mal ignores him, like always; Wash’s a grown man, he could stop this if really wanted. Like always, he doesn’t.
Mal kneels down between the pilot’s legs, same as always, pulling his shirt from pants and unbuttoning him – snap, snap, snap – digging in the cloth for the slit that will give him access. Mal loves the smell of him – like orangey laundry detergent and something masculine. Wash is shifting in his seat, uncomfortably or maybe excitedly. Gorramnit, Mal, just ignore me why don’t you.
Wash is soft - he’s always soft when they begin – but he seems to be pushing Mal away with more urgency than usual, which is a mite puzzling. When Mal bends over and takes Wash’s cock in his mouth, the taste hits him and it suddenly all makes sense – he’s just come from being with Zoë.
The thought stops him dead for just half a second. Wash whimpers one final protest, but Mal has long since stopped hearing him.
He’s never tasted her, not in all their years of being so close (he’d certainly offered, but that never got very far) and this first taste of her, taste of her on him, is overwhelming. His mind is flooded with images of her, how beautiful she is, of her with Wash, Wash on top of her, fucking her, then Wash on top of him, and soon it’s all melted into a general haze of lust and desire, laced with some kind of pang deep in hisstomach that he knows better than to examine too closely. Usually, it takes half a blowjob to get Mal erect, but as it is, he’s already straining against his pants.
Mal has cleaned Wash off entirely, licked and sucked each last remnant, ‘til all he tastes isskin and spit. He listens to Wash’s breathing, slow and even, as his lips and tongue coax his cock to half-mast. It takes a long time to get him there and Mal wonders how many times he’s had Zoë that evening. The thought makes his desire coil a little tighter in his gut. He pulls at the fabric, trying to get at Wash’s ball, licking the seam between them, and then rolling them around on his tongue, stroking Wash’s length all the while.
He’s got Wash fully erect now. Mal coaxes him forward in the seat a little, hearing the vinyl move beneath him. Wash’s eyes are shut tight, same as always, his head thrown back, neck bent over the top of the chair. The captain traces the small, thin vein that curls right to left along the shaft and laps gently at the tip searching for a few drops of pre-cum.
The glint of Wash’s wedding ring makes Mal a little weak – something about that on his hand turns him on so ruttin’ much – even though he wishes to god it weren’t Zoë’s - but even so, a straight man is letting him suck his cock and right now that’s all that matters.
Mal’s tongue begins to swirl over the bulbous head and he sucks in the entirety of him, feeling the push on the back of his throat. Wash never touches him; it’s an unwritten rule. It’s different in Mal’s fantasies: Wash laces his fingers through his hair, panting, MalMalMal …
As it is, the pilot’s murmuring, swearing in Chinese under his breath. He’s starting to strain against Mal, thrusting in and out of his mouth, so the wet smacking sounds start to take on a rhythm. Mal has Wash’s cock slick with spit and it glides fast and hard between his lips. His jaw hurts, but he can take it; he loves the intensity, loves knowing he’s making Wash hard, making him lose control, even though he isn’t one bit sly.
Mal can feel thigh muscles tensing under his hands. Wash’s breathing is shallow, his balls taut, and Mal is careful to keep the pace Wash has set for him, even as his thrusts become uncomfortably insistent. Finally, he’s rewarded with warm, wet bitterness on his tongue. It’s true there isn’t much, Wash must be really spent, but the trade off of knowing he’d just been with Zoë, of having that incredible intimacy with both of them, is more than worth it.
Mal slows his movements, making them progressively lighter until he knows he’s given Wash all the pleasure he possibly can. He’s careful not to swallow overly much, so there’ll be some taste left when he goes back to his bunk. When Wash pulls away slightly, Mal knows he’s finished with him, so he cleans him off slowly, gently with his tongue, savoring the last drops before Wash goes to button himself back up.
They never speak afterwards. Mal is always tempted to thank him when it’s over and he’s flush with the intensity of it all. But he always thinks better of it and just turns to go. He heads back to his bunk to replay the scene over again in his mind and take things in hand, not daring to turn and see if Wash’s eyes follow him, or if the pilot’s chair has already turned back toward the stars.
He’s bent over the instrument panel, wrapping up the 12-hour checklist. When he turns, and his eyes meet Mal’s, the familiar uncertainty passes between them instantly, crackling like an electric current.
In the late evenings, when Mal comes up on the bridge, it always goes one of two ways. The door stays open and they talk. Or Mal closes the door behind him and they don’t. Never any combination of the two.
The captain comes closer and Wash is whispering frantically to him in Chinese – there’s no one else to hear, but whispering makes him less embarrassed – now is really not a good time, he says, his tone more tense than usual. Wash seems more emphatic, for sure, but then again, they almost always go through this little song and dance. Mal figures it’s something Wash needs to do, something to do with not being sly, and he can respect that. We all got our different ways of making sense of the ‘verse after all.
But Mal ignores him, like always; Wash’s a grown man, he could stop this if really wanted. Like always, he doesn’t.
Mal kneels down between the pilot’s legs, same as always, pulling his shirt from pants and unbuttoning him – snap, snap, snap – digging in the cloth for the slit that will give him access. Mal loves the smell of him – like orangey laundry detergent and something masculine. Wash is shifting in his seat, uncomfortably or maybe excitedly. Gorramnit, Mal, just ignore me why don’t you.
Wash is soft - he’s always soft when they begin – but he seems to be pushing Mal away with more urgency than usual, which is a mite puzzling. When Mal bends over and takes Wash’s cock in his mouth, the taste hits him and it suddenly all makes sense – he’s just come from being with Zoë.
The thought stops him dead for just half a second. Wash whimpers one final protest, but Mal has long since stopped hearing him.
He’s never tasted her, not in all their years of being so close (he’d certainly offered, but that never got very far) and this first taste of her, taste of her on him, is overwhelming. His mind is flooded with images of her, how beautiful she is, of her with Wash, Wash on top of her, fucking her, then Wash on top of him, and soon it’s all melted into a general haze of lust and desire, laced with some kind of pang deep in hisstomach that he knows better than to examine too closely. Usually, it takes half a blowjob to get Mal erect, but as it is, he’s already straining against his pants.
Mal has cleaned Wash off entirely, licked and sucked each last remnant, ‘til all he tastes isskin and spit. He listens to Wash’s breathing, slow and even, as his lips and tongue coax his cock to half-mast. It takes a long time to get him there and Mal wonders how many times he’s had Zoë that evening. The thought makes his desire coil a little tighter in his gut. He pulls at the fabric, trying to get at Wash’s ball, licking the seam between them, and then rolling them around on his tongue, stroking Wash’s length all the while.
He’s got Wash fully erect now. Mal coaxes him forward in the seat a little, hearing the vinyl move beneath him. Wash’s eyes are shut tight, same as always, his head thrown back, neck bent over the top of the chair. The captain traces the small, thin vein that curls right to left along the shaft and laps gently at the tip searching for a few drops of pre-cum.
The glint of Wash’s wedding ring makes Mal a little weak – something about that on his hand turns him on so ruttin’ much – even though he wishes to god it weren’t Zoë’s - but even so, a straight man is letting him suck his cock and right now that’s all that matters.
Mal’s tongue begins to swirl over the bulbous head and he sucks in the entirety of him, feeling the push on the back of his throat. Wash never touches him; it’s an unwritten rule. It’s different in Mal’s fantasies: Wash laces his fingers through his hair, panting, MalMalMal …
As it is, the pilot’s murmuring, swearing in Chinese under his breath. He’s starting to strain against Mal, thrusting in and out of his mouth, so the wet smacking sounds start to take on a rhythm. Mal has Wash’s cock slick with spit and it glides fast and hard between his lips. His jaw hurts, but he can take it; he loves the intensity, loves knowing he’s making Wash hard, making him lose control, even though he isn’t one bit sly.
Mal can feel thigh muscles tensing under his hands. Wash’s breathing is shallow, his balls taut, and Mal is careful to keep the pace Wash has set for him, even as his thrusts become uncomfortably insistent. Finally, he’s rewarded with warm, wet bitterness on his tongue. It’s true there isn’t much, Wash must be really spent, but the trade off of knowing he’d just been with Zoë, of having that incredible intimacy with both of them, is more than worth it.
Mal slows his movements, making them progressively lighter until he knows he’s given Wash all the pleasure he possibly can. He’s careful not to swallow overly much, so there’ll be some taste left when he goes back to his bunk. When Wash pulls away slightly, Mal knows he’s finished with him, so he cleans him off slowly, gently with his tongue, savoring the last drops before Wash goes to button himself back up.
They never speak afterwards. Mal is always tempted to thank him when it’s over and he’s flush with the intensity of it all. But he always thinks better of it and just turns to go. He heads back to his bunk to replay the scene over again in his mind and take things in hand, not daring to turn and see if Wash’s eyes follow him, or if the pilot’s chair has already turned back toward the stars.