Jun. 26th, 2006 01:01 am
[identity profile] posting in [community profile] uselessflattery
Title: Metal
Author: [ profile] ninamazing, or Nina
Word Count: 896.
Progress: 2/50 for [ profile] 50_darkfics. Table here.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for some sexuality.
Pairings/Characters: Mal/River. The OTP of Hot.
Spoilers: Not too apparent. You could get by, for sure.
Author's Note: Didn't mean for the break to be that long. And yes, there's no chronology here -- it's write-what-I-feel night. Enjoy it?

The first time Mal touched River, she couldn't keep herself from gasping, curling herself against him and around him and over him. This, she thought, is what made him tell her he was afraid to be taking advantage, was going to make it nice and slow, wanted to give her time to get used to it.

The girl, who thought that her knowledge of chaos theory made her superior -- made her an adult -- didn't think she could ever get used to this. Mal's hands were sensitive, soft, gentle; they knew exactly where to go, what to tell her, how hard to press and how softly to dance. River didn't know there were things this nice in life, and she pushed herself closer so he'd know. So he'd feel how much she needed him.

"Not like that, darlin'," he whispered, half a groan. "Not that fast. Gotta -- gotta have some time."

Just like that, his hands slipped away from her legs, and his warmth left her. He was rolling off the chair and out of her room before she noticed, before she had time to move or get comfortable. He'd frozen her.

River lay back in the chair, closed her eyes, and listened. She needed something else, someone else's thoughts.

Simon and Kaylee -- and Kaylee gave him everything, everything -- Zoe was dreaming of Wash, and Inara was so far gone she'd locked even herself out of her dreams. River, suddenly, wanted to be like that: cold, dark, harsh. Sad without knowing why, unable to be fixed, aloof, alone.

It would be better than feeling lonely for a reason.

She listened to Mal's boot steps as he puttered around the infirmary, headed up the stairs -- he was looking for something to do that would be close to her, but not too close. Always a step away, always pulling back: sometimes when he smiled at her as she was flying Serenity, she smiled back, but he got chilly, turned away, didn't want to look at her or be reminded of who she was. River didn't know what he thought anymore -- couldn't convince herself to believe what she saw or heard.

Her mind had never been faithful to her anyway, in recent years. He'd only trusted it once, and River couldn't blame him: that hadn't worked out well. She heard the Shepherd whisper in his ear sometimes when he looked at her -- saw Inara's face on Miranda, saw him see her face -- that was enough. Every day Zoe went without a husband, and sometimes Mal looked at her, and echoed Simon, everyone who'd been close to her -- "If she hadn't ...."

It was silly to think that someone would love her for being crazy; Simon, maybe, had spoiled her for that. She was too much for her own brother, but she wanted Mal anyway -- for some reason, she thought he could handle her.

She wanted him to drive her crazy, lose her mind, take everything away until nothing was left but what she felt for him. There's nothing inside me anymore, she thought, like a lost little bird, and then wondered what it would be like to cling to him, scream and cry as he touched her, beg for his hands, his lips, his face -- dig her head and fingers into his chest, collapse against the body of a man who wanted her, who would teach her to act unwisely and follow nothing but desire. "You fly my ship," she thought he might whisper, "little feng le pilot, mogui, you're mine, girl, mine and Serenity's" -- and she'd agree, open her legs, crash against him, hope he hurt her, hope he found a use for her, promise to dance for him all night, any way he wanted, yours, Mal, yours and Serenity's.

Sometimes when River thought these things, she was right outside his room, folded against the wall by his door, graceful without realizing it. River wished he could bring himself to touch her for longer than a minute -- wished Simon would stop throwing the captain daggers with his eyes, and wished the captain wouldn't look down when he did.

River folded herself up, dug against the floor of the ship, metal and cold and hard, and remembered Mal walking away. She imagined following him, pulling at his shirt -- having him turn, take a moment to decide, and then shove her back, kissing her neck everywhere, wanting her so badly he didn't stop to think if it would be all right for her, or if someone else would want to protect her against what he was doing.

Maybe, she thought, he wouldn’t care, he'd pull me like a ball on a string, force me against him, and even though I could fight back I wouldn't.

Cold, she thought, cold, the look in Mal's eyes and the feel of the metal between her legs, her hands up her skirt, pressing into her, making her breathe too hard -- maybe he'd yell at me, push me, touch me too fast, no more gentleness -- maybe this was what he wanted, this was what he was afraid to see, River giving in, taking everything she got and coming back with kisses, sweetness, against his metal eyes.

When she was done the floor made her cold, and she shivered, got up. River looked around, as if expecting onlookers; if one of the crew found her here, doing this, they'd know what it meant. Mal would know.

He would walk away again.

Date: 2007-08-30 01:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Eerily beautiful! Lovin' your Mal/River fics so far. Off to read another!


50 Tales of Dark Fiction

July 2007


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