badinlatin | (no subject)

Inara looks up from where she was putzing around on the Cortex, takes one look at him, and stands up immediately, her hand held up in front of her. "Do not take one step closer to that bed, while all gross, Malcolm Reynolds."

"Wasn't plannin' on it, actually. 'S my bed too - I don't sleep in metal shavings."

"Well." She frowns at him, trying to find a reason to stay annoyed. It's not working. "You're still all dirty."

Fix this!

Mal just cocks an eyebrow at her when he sits down on a safe wooden stool to toe off his shoes. He's unbuttoning his shirt when he quietly asks if he can use her washbowl.

"I don't feel like haulin' to my bunk."

Inara watches him for a moment before shaking her head and moving to fill the pitcher with warm water. She pours it into the washbowl, and takes a sponge off a shelf and places it in the water.

"All of my soap smells girlie. You okay with that?"

"That's fine."

It's a quiet reaction, just...moving about his business. Mal sits in seiza, kneeling in front of the bowl, working the sponge over his hands.

He's getting up to his forearms. "What have you been up to?"

"Just looking at clothes." She grins, moving to turn the monitor off on the computer. Turning, she leans against her desk, watching him, almost entranced by the movement of his hands and the sponge.

"What were you making such a mess of?"

"I didn't wash up after working out with Jayne," Mal explains. "The clanging after that hour was me 'n River trying to piece together a new refrigeration unit for the kitchen."

A smirk. "She don't mind my grime, apparently."

"You don't touch her with those hands." Inara points out, stepping forward, with another sponge, gesturing at his face. "You're just...covered in it. How do you get grime in your hairline?"

Slightly incredulous, as though Mal can't believe he has to explain this again. "I was workin'!"

He does however hold still when Inara moves closer to him. "You goin' to make me all clean again?" he asks with a bit of a leer.

She dips the sponge into the water, and squeezes it out, taking her time and never looking away from him. "Maybe."

Inara steps up close, pushing his head back with a tap to his chin, dragging the sponge against his hairline and along his jaw.

Mal hums lightly at the direction.

He's never going to complain about Inara touching him, even if she's being a little maternal about it all.

"I hope I didn't interrupt your shopping excursions."

"Hardly." She murmurs, sliding the sponge down his neck now, and then across his collarbone. "I have all my favorite stores saved for when my pesky husband interrupts me."

The water cools against him and Mal smiles to stop the goosebumps that want to form under where Inara's hands move.

When Inara's hand moves close enough, Mal tilts his chin downward to touch his lips to her knuckles lightly. "Just glad to serve a purpose, my lady."

"Oh, chivalrous today, are we?" Inara smiles, letting her hand still under his lips, water dripping down his chest from the sponge.

Her other hand trails down his cheek and she shakes her head one more time before leaning forward to kiss him.

"Mmm. I try."

Beat.

"Since I smell all womanlike now..."

Inara pulls back and shoots him a look. "Since you smell all womanlike now what."

This sentence better end in promises you can keep, Malcolm Reynolds.

What?

"I just meant that since I smell all womanly, I can afford to be chivalrous?"

Or something.

It made sense at the time!

"And other times you can't?" She narrows her eyes at him. Then shakes her head.

She's not going to let his silliness get in the way of this. "Since you smell all womanly, think you can afford to spend some time with me?"

Mal looks confused just for a second.

"The fridge unit really did need to be fixed, baobei -- "

Inara steps back and drops the sponge into the water again. "Mal."

She gestures at herself, bracelets jingling as she does so. "What, do I need to dance naked for you to realize what I'm talking about?"

"You could go to it and we could find out?"

Pursing her lips, Inara reaches for the zipper on the back of her shirt, drawing it down and then tossing the top somewhere behind her. Her skirts follow the same path, leaving her in only the wedge heels she wore and her underwear. Instead of dancing, she pushes a hand through her hair and sighs.

"There's no music."

Mal smiles even though his mouth agape; the effect is something between surprise and approval. The sponge from his hand lands in the bowl when he stands up and lands callused hands on slight hips.

"We don't need it I think."

"Oh, good." She sighs in mock-relief, sliding her hands to grip his broad shoulders.

"So, Captain. Finally understand my meaning?"

"Very forward of you."

"Demure only gets you so far in today's world."

"I am talking too much."

"Yes dear. There are other things your mouth could be doing."

Even with him, Mal has rarely seen Inara this...blatant.

He gives up the tease with a low groan, throwing his arms around her chest and lifting her up with his mouth meeting hers again. Hands shift from back to ass to thighs to keep her up, weight and heat around him and he's still kind of grimy.

Rarely has Inara been this blatant with anyone...but she knows that if it was indeed, with anyone, Mal would be the one to go for it, to understand and let it happen.

And he does. He gives her what she wants, the hard, wanting kisses, the hands everywhere, and even though she'd never admit it directly: the getting her dirty. She moans into his mouth, her hands plunging into his hair, tilting his head back to kiss him as he holds her.

Mal backs up to the couch and lands with a thud, Inara still astride him.

"Wouldn't want to -- " Biting against her collarbone, " -- mess up the sheets."