Firefly, Mal/Simon, kissing: Lips and Hands
Okay, so this is terrible, but I had to write SOMETHING. I'm sorry.
It completely caught Simon off guard.
One moment he was at gunpoint, and the next the guy was screaming in pain, shot just below the knee. But that -- that was normal. That was life on Serenity, on the border planets. And then he was being helped up by Jayne, sort of roughly, and Mal was talking to the guy's boss. Voices were raised, more shots were fired, and Simon ran back to the ship, which Kaylee and River were already preparing to take off.
The unexpected part was after that, when he was catching his breath in the infirmary and Mal came in, pushed him up against the wall, and kissed him.
From the angry look on the captain's face, he might've expected a punch, or a bit of yelling about not being careful enough, but instead of his fist or his voice, Mal was channeling his anger through his lips, pressing too close, bruising Simon's, his hands on the wall just over Simon's shoulders.
The shock excused Simon's first moment without resisting, but he knew that if he let it go any further without asking for some sort of explanation he'd probably have some explaining of his own to do, so he brought up his hands and pushed Mal's chest, taking a moment to catch his breath -- again -- before demanding, "What is this?"
"Kissin'," Mal said simply, looking less angry and more bothered by the interuption. "Thought a smart man like you coulda figured that out on your own."
"I-- I mean, you--" He paused, taking a breath. "Inara--"
"She's got a job to do. She ain't stopping for me, I ain't stopping for her."
"Kaylee..." They'd broken it off, but he'd hoped--
Mal furrowed his brow. "She and Jayne have been goin' at it for a week."
And the breath went out of him, like he'd been punched in the gut.
"Thought you knew, or I wouldn'ta--"
Simon grabbed his captain by the suspenders, pulling him forward and pressing against him, kissing Mal for all he was worth.
And he found out that there were different kinds of kisses. There was the sort of wild passion from that first time, those times when he nearly got himself killed; there was the sort he got when Mal got shot, or stabbed, or otherwise hurt, when Simon fixed him up and the kisses were soft. There were stolen kisses on the bridge, when no one was looking, and kisses that started slow, in the dark, and sped up until Simon wasn't sure how he'd ended up on his stomach, Mal's cock slowly pushing into him, his toes curling.
He grunted in pain and pleasure, clutching his bedsheets, and Mal kissed the back of his neck. Those kisses were sweet, tender; later, Mal would kiss him like that after a close call with Reavers, and he would find it disturbing that his toes would curl so soon after he'd ransacked the infirmary to find the capsules he would have taken if it hadn't been just a close call.
He catalogued his memory of Mal by their lips and their hands, and he almost found himself laughing when he walked into River's singing at the controls.