Chapter Text
Disclaimer: Joss is Boss. No copyright infringement is intended and no money was made from this of course. Any similarity to any other story but my own is a coincidence.
Title: Crash into Me (Objects in Motion)
Genre: Romance(essentially PWP) Malcolm/Inara; incidental mention of Simon/Kaylee
Rating: Hard R certainly pushing towards NC-17; rated for sexual content
Timeline: Post TBDM
Author's Notes: Originally posted as a prompt from my FList. Oh, and yes, I now know that canon back-story says that Inara entered training when she was 12, but 5 works better for my story, so I kind of just went with it.
Language Notes:(as best I know)
Tzao-gao: Crap or damn
Ta ma de: Damn it
Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze…: The explosive diarrhea of an elephant!
Ta ma duh: Another way to say damn it
Shi zi: Honored Masters/Teachers
Hua qiao tang huang: fancy dandy
Run-tse duh fwo-tzoo: Dear/Merciful Buddha
Wo de tien ah: Dear God in Heaven
Bao bei: Baby/darling
Tsai boo shr: No way!
Crash Into Me
“Tzao-gao!” Malcolm swore, awkwardly trying to hold a mirror in one hand and scissors in the other. “Gorram stupid…” he muttered.
“Ouch,” he dropped the scissors abruptly as the scarred edges nicked his fingers.
“What are you trying to do?” Inara asked as she entered Serenity’s open galley.
“What does it look like I’m tryin’ to do woman?” Mal asked testily as he retrieved his scissors from the floor and proceeded to once more try and clip his dark hair.
Inara raised one elegant brow but otherwise made no response.
“Ta ma de!”
“Mal, here, let me help,” Inara offered, stepping forward to try and take the scissors from him. “Before you do any permanent damage,” she couldn’t help adding.
Malcolm glared, sucking his fingertip. “I’m a big boy, Inara, I can trim my own hair,” he practically growled.
Gracefully, she offered him a placating gesture and moved instead to the cupboards in the cooking area.
“Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze…” Malcolm swore again, this time as the mirror fell from his hands and cracked as it bounced off of the dining table before hitting the floor.
“Malcolm…” Inara walked back to him as he bent down to retrieve the mirror and dump it unceremoniously on the table. “Mal, let me help you.”
He half-glared, but finally gave her a quiet nod.
“Bring one of those taller crates over,” she directed.
“Why?” Malcolm asked suspiciously.
Inara made no other reply but to simply wait quietly for the captain to do as she had requested.
“Sit,” she directed him and he sat down heavily in the dark wooden chair nearest the crate. “And give me those,” she ordered, holding out a hand for the dull silver scissors that Mal still gripped in an awkward hand.
Malcolm handed them to her.
“Wait here.”
“What? Wait, where are you goin?” he asked as she started to leave the galley.
“I’ll be right back. If we’re going to do this, it should be done properly.”
Mal waited until Inara had left in the direction of her shuttle, then muttered, “I didn’t know there was a proper way to cut a little hair. It’s just scissors and snip, and try to keep your ears.”
For a moment, he contemplated just taking his scissors and seeing if he couldn’t find Kaylee. But when Mal looked around, he realized that Inara had taken them with her.
“Of course…” he grumbled. He was about to go seeking her out when Inara returned, carrying a small, intricately carved cherrywood case.
Malcolm watched her with a mild sense of alarm as she set the lacquered box on the table and opened it. Carefully, she started withdrawing items.
“What’s all that for?” he asked. “All I’m needin’ is a little trim.”
“I told you, if we’re going to do this, we should do it properly,” Inara replied serenely.
“And ya need all that?” Mal asked incredulously with a dip of his head in the direction of the box and its items.
The Companion made no response and instead took a small vial with her as she walked over to the cooking area. She ducked down and removed a dented basin from one of the lower cupboards.
“I don’t wanna be smellin’ like any gorram flowers there, Inara,” Malcolm said when he saw her place a few drops from the vial into the basin before filling it with water.
“Relax, Mal.”
Inara carried the basin carefully to the crate and set it down behind Malcolm in his chair.
“Lean back,” she directed the captain. “And take off your shirt.”
Malcolm eyed her warily, but slowly did as she asked.
“Now close your eyes.”
He gave her another mildly apprehensive look.
“Unless you prefer soap in them?” Inara suggested mildly.
“I thought you was just cuttin’ my hair,” Mal grumbled suspiciously.
“Mal,” she chided softly.
“All right… all right,” he conceded and leaned back in the chair, tilting his head back over the basin that had been set on the crate. Slowly, he closed his eyes.
He had expected the first washes of warm water through his hair, but when he felt Inara’s graceful fingers start to gently massage his scalp, Mal’s eyes flew open.
“Ta ma duh!” he swore violently when soap stung his eyes.
“I told you to keep your eyes closed,” Inara admonished him. “Here, here… hold still.”
She wiped the soap away gently with the soft cotton towel that she had brought with her. “Are you all right?”
“I just got gorram soap in my eyes when all I was tryin’ to do was get a little haircut,” he hissed. “How do you think I am?”
“I think you’ve had a lot worse and you’ll be okay,” Inara replied almost lightly. She brushed the soft cloth over his closed eyelids once more, clearing away any lingering trace of soap.
“Relax,” she directed gently.
“Relax, she says,” he mumbled. “Relax.”
But after a moment, as Inara began to wash his hair once more, Malcolm's body began to follow the Companion's direction with an involuntary ease. The soothing sounds of falling water; Inara’s gentle hands; the soft stillness of nighttime on Serenity all began to calm him.
Of course, once he was relaxed, Malcolm began to notice all the other little things that he always tried to ignore in any situation where he found himself close to Inara. Things like the smooth rustle of her silk dress; the subtle scent of jasmine that always seemed to be about the Companion; the soft way she breathed; all of it seemed to suddenly be pressing in on his new found calm.
“Inara…” he said far more quietly than he had intended.
If she had heard him, she didn’t acknowledge it as she continued to work her fingers through Malcolm’s hair.
“Nara…” this time, it was nearly a sigh as the Companion’s movements became almost caressing.
Malcolm felt Inara startle a bit and her hands, while still soothing, became less caressing in their task. She poured more water, rinsing free the last of the soap, then carefully dried his hair with the cotton towel.
“Sit up,” she directed, using the simple direction to regain her momentary lapse of control.
The captain shifted in the wooden chair, making it creak almost too loudly in the still room as he straightened himself up and pressed into the back of the chair.
“This the part where ya finally get to trimmin’ my hair?” Malcolm teased.
“Sit still,” she admonished in a soft voice. “I wouldn’t want to get an ear,” she whispered into said appendage, causing him to swallow softly as he felt her breath brush against his skin.
With a small smile that Malcolm couldn’t see, Inara began to carefully trim his hair with precise, simple snips of her golden scissors.
After a few moments with only the soft sounds of the scissors and their breathing, the Companion finally spoke. “You said that you could trim your own hair…”
“I can,” Mal replied simply.
“That explains so much,” Inara teased.
“Well, maybe it’s not as fancified and perfect like what you can do, but it suits me just fine,” Malcolm volleyed back.
Inara stilled her hands and considered the man before her. “Maybe you’re right,” she said almost too softly for him to hear.
“But I’m not suggestin’ you should feel the need to be stoppin' or nothin,” he said quickly.
Again, Inara smiled quietly to herself and continued.
“My Ma used to cut my hair when I was little,” Malcolm said after a moment.
Inara listened carefully, charmed by how soft and quiet his voice had become. He drew her in with the small glimpse of the man beneath all the bravo and bluster.
“She was always real gentle-like. And she’d sing when she’d do it,” the captain continued quietly, his voice colored like sepia memories.
“Only time she really ever sang… She had a pretty voice, my Ma. It was kinda unexpected-like, such a pretty voice comin’ outta such a hard life. Kinda like a nightingale, you know… just unexpected and beautiful in the darkness.”
Inara listened quietly, letting Malcolm draw her in with the unexpected intimacy.
“Then one day, I got it inta my fool head that boys of nine and half don’t let their ma’s cut their hair. I got some big ole shears from the shed and just…”
Malcolm made a kind of rough cutting motion in front of his chest.
“Declared to my Ma that I was a man grown and I had no need for her to be cuttin’ my hair anymore.”
The captain fell into a thoughtful silence.
“I miss her singin,” he said eventually.
The silence quietly faded from sepia to blue.
“I never really knew my mother,” Inara offered softly. “I entered the Training House when I was five. But Nandi used to cut my hair. She would make it perfect, except for one small part, just at the nape of my neck. There, she’d cut it close and short.”
Inara slowly made her way to Malcolm’s side, still clipping his hair in a neat cut.
“She would call it our own small rebellion.”
“Must have been hard, not knowin’ your own kin,” Malcolm said in a low voice.
“I don’t know…” she replied softly. “It’s hard to miss what you never knew. Besides, there was always Nandi; and I had my Shi zi; my lessons.”
“You miss it,” Mal said softly.
Inara slowly made her way to stand in front of him.
“Things were…” she considered her words, looking into his storm blessed eyes. “Less complicated then…”
Inara bumped his knees in a movement that she still managed look graceful as she prompted him to open his legs. For a moment, the captain couldn’t take his eyes off of her hips and the way that the smooth silk of her dress moved over her skin.
But then he opened his legs and she stepped between them. Her sweet jasmine scent enfolded the captain in its embrace and he inhaled deeply.
“Almost done?” he asked in a slightly strained voice as Inara stepped closer. Malcolm could feel her warmth like the radiance of the sun brushing over his skin.
“Almost,” Inara replied, her voice in harmony with the soft snips of her scissors. She shifted, and Malcolm found himself almost hungrily watching the delicate beat of her pulse in the hollow of her throat.
The intimacy between them shifted to something a lot heavier and much more profound than either of them would have cared to admit was possible.
“What’s that you put in the water before?” the captain asked, just to have something to say.
“Sandalwood,” the Companion replied for much the same reason.
“I like it,” Mal admitted before he could quite stop himself. “Or leastwise, I'm glad that you didn’t use something to make me smell like some hua qiao tang huang,” he added, trying to undercut his unexpected admission. “Though it is kinda…flowery now that I smell it.”
“That's my... it's my perfume...” Inara explained quietly.
Malcolm couldn’t help breathing in their entwined scents, so he tried to ignore the heady way it made him feel. But now that he recognized what was happening, he was finding it harder to stop himself from imaging much more interesting ways that he and Inara’s scents could merge together.
It was almost a relief when the Companion moved out of the circle of Malcolm’s legs and over to his other side. He grabbed for his white shirt and held bunched in his lap, trying to hide just how much his thoughts were racing from his mind and to other parts of his anatomy instead.
“So… you just happen to have a hair cuttin’ kit about then? Lots of call for that? With your clients I mean? Suppose there’s even some kinda ceremony, seein' as how you seem to have one for just ‘bout everything.”
Clearly needing to hide back in the familiar waters of the more antagonist aspect of their relationship, Inara took the bait quickly. “Everything in life can be a ceremony,” she responded. “There should be a celebration of each moment.”
“Seen lots of moments in life darlin’ and most of ‘em sure as hell weren’t worth celebratin.’ Lessin’ of course you mean celebratin’ survivin’ ‘em.”
“Those moments are all the more reason to celebrate the ones that you have to be alive in. For all of it Captain, there are still wonders in this Universe.”
She stepped behind him finally and set her scissors down.
“Wonders…” he scoffed. “Name a one that makes havin’ to endure the others worth it, darlin.”
“Lean back,” she directed him.
He did so. “I suppose you want me to close my eyes again.”
This time, he did so without a moment’s hesitation.
Gently, Inara washed warm water through Malcolm’s hair again.
“Beauty…” she said softly.
“What?”
“Beauty is worth it,” she explained.
Mal made a small, rude noise.
Inara gently ran her fingers through his hair, releasing the loose strands.
“Passion…”
Again, Malcolm scoffed, but as Inara continued to slip her fingers through his hair, his voice became a little less harsh.
“The search for some sort of perfection and serenity in this life…”
“No such thing darlin,” the captain replied, but his voice was soft.
“Family…” she said, knowing that it was the one thing that the fiercely loyal and protective captain couldn’t scoff at.
“Mmmm…” Malcolm’s face softened as the quietly loving man hidden beneath all his masks appeared.
Inara’s hands became uncharacteristically unsteady as she watched the water slip down the captain’s shoulders and over his chest.
“Now I see why you asked for my shirt off,” he teased gently. “And here I was hopin’ it might be for different reasons,” he added, just to get a response.
“Love…” Inara whispered, ignoring the verbal baiting and letting her hands trail after the water.
Malcolm shivered in the wake of their passing and would have said something more, but suddenly, Inara’s lips were on his and he had no more thoughts capable of being formed into words.
Inara shifted, leaning over further, heedless of Malcolm’s wet hair against the silk of her dress.
“Run-tse duh fwo-tzoo,” Inara gasped suddenly as she broke the kiss and tried to whirl away.
For a moment, Malcolm was too dazed to do anything, but he recovered quickly and reached for Inara’s hand. He grabbed it and brought her back to him.
“Nara…”
Mal surged upwards, still not releasing his grip on Inara’s hand. For a moment, he met her dark eyes, trying to read something in their depths.
“Wo de tien ah…” she whispered, then reached for him, her lips colliding with his.
“Nara…” Malcolm gasped before deepening the kiss. “Nara…” His hands buried themselves in her dark curls, seeking the nape of her neck. He found the strands there that had been purposely cut short.
Gracefully then, Inara moved to settle herself on his lap, not breaking their kiss, even as she brushed his shirt out of the way. Malcolm’s hands went to her hips as hers slid to his shoulders so that she could brace herself.
They kissed until they were both breathless and almost dizzy.
“Bao bei…” Malcolm half-whispered, half-gasped.
His breathless sounds became deep throated moans though as Inara started to slowly and deliberately rock her hips.
“Mal…I…Mal…” She licked her lips, and Malcolm watched, fascinated.
“Oh, sweet merciful Buddha…” Mal groaned, rocking his own hips upwards to meet Inara’s movements. He was rewarded with her own aching gasp and her shift to bring herself as close as she possibly could. She ground herself almost painfully against his erection.
“Mal…” she groaned.
“Yes… bao bei…”
Malcolm brought his mouth to her nipple and suckled it through the wet silk. Inara gripped his shoulders in response, her nails digging in slightly. They dug in further when the captain brought his teeth to bear, capturing her nipple gently through the fabric.
“Oh God…” she gasped.
Malcolm shifted his attention to her other nipple, unbelievably aroused at the sight of the dark circle beneath the light peach silk.
“Bao bei, do know how beautiful you are?”
“To you?” she asked, her voice making it clear just how important the answer was to her. “I’m beautiful to you, Mal?”
“Nara… you know you are…”
“But to you, Mal. I’m beautiful to you?”
“Oh, bao bei,” Malcolm met her eyes, letting her finally see the truth in them. “You’re the most beautiful thing in my ‘Verse. You are my celebration…”
The smile that she gave him was the most honest smile she had ever shown to anyone since entering the Training House as a child.
Malcolm lost himself in kissing her then, moaning into her mouth as she found just the right spot to rock against him. He hadn’t thought that he could be any more aroused, but his body proved him wrong as he felt her moist heat, even through the fabric of his pants.
“I need to touch you, ’Nara.”
“Yes…”
Malcolm began to bunch the light fabric of Inara’s dress in his hands, drawing it further up her leg. When he finally had it high enough, he slid one of his hands beneath it, searching for the sweet moisture that he had felt.
Suddenly they froze, hearing Kaylee and Simon’s laughter just seconds before they tumbled into the galley, half-dressed themselves.
Inara was up out of Malcolm’s lap and out the opposite doorway before either of the young people had even realized that there was anyone else in the room.
“Tsai boo shr,” Kaylee gasped in laughing response to whatever story Simon had been telling her.
Malcolm was up from the chair himself and had almost made it to the door when Kaylee turned.
“Cap’n…” she said in surprise. “You’re up?”
He practically dove behind the counter of the cooking area, bracing his hands on the countertop.
The pretty mechanic tilted her head thoughtfully.