BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - ROMANCE

WHOSTHATGIRL

You Gotta Sin to Get Saved
Saturday, November 11, 2006

The first gal to use feminine wiles on Mal. Oh and there is a brief nod to a particular SF author, if anyone catches it. :> (R++)
Belongs to somebody not me. Blah blah blah, yackety schmackety.
Please to comment. Good. Bad. Whatever.


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2462    RATING: 9    SERIES: FIREFLY

Mal had spent the last 15 minutes unsuccessfully attempting to deal with the cowlicks in his hair. It was no use - he was just going to have to go to the dance looking something like a hedgehog. He studied himself in the mirror for a moment. He'd finally started to fill out some this summer, no longer looking quite so scrawny. But still with the gorram hair he'd had since the day he came cryin'...

Maybe the girls wouldn't notice? Nah, just his luck. His very first dance without his Ma keepin' an eagle eye on him and the girls would prolly all be giggling at him. Prolly not even get himself a kiss, much less anything else.

Caroline Reynolds' voice called up to him. "Malcolm Reynolds, get yourself down here! Tommy and Joe just got here! Hurry up or you'll be late!"

He made one last attempt on the hair and just gave up. "Coming, Ma!"

Caroline Reynolds surveyed her 15-year-old boy as he appeared in the kitchen. She had to remind herself that 'boy' didn't apply any more. He was almost as tall as his father had been, and looking to be just as handsome. She smiled to herself as she handed each of the boys baskets with baked goods for the potluck.

"No sneakin' the lemon bars a'fore you get there! And be sure to thank Preacher Wilkinson for hosting the dance."

"Yes, ma'am," the boys all chorused. Mal's Ma might have been a tiny woman, but they all knew that she was not to be messed with. The screen door slammed shut behind them.

"Hey, Reynolds, I hear Wilkinson's lettin' lil' Becky come to the dance," Tommy Chen said, as they headed down the road into town.

"Is that so?" Mal was trying to play it cool. He'd had a crush on Becky ever since they were both eight. Course now, parts of her weren't so little any more.

"Wouldn't mind me some time with that lil' Becky," Joe Turner laughed. "I could show her a thing or two her daddy never imagined."

"You wish," Tommy laughed. "I know for truth, Joe Turner, neither you nor Reynolds here have got yer cherries busted yet. We'd best be seein' to that a'fore I ship out at the end of the month." Tommy was a few years older than the other two boys and had already signed on with the Independents.

Mal snorted. "And just how do you plan to accomplish this grand plan, Tommy?"

"I'm haulin' the both of you over to Lady Sally's. First one's on me! Consider it my going-away present for you two greenhorns."

Joe whooped and hollered, but Mal remained silent.

Tommy looked over at him. "Hey, Reynolds, quit lookin' like I shot your best dog. I just told ya that I'm gonna get you laid. If that ain't a cause for rejoicing, I dunno what is."

"So you're really going, Tommy?"

"Hell yeah! I can't wait to get off this go se dustball of a planet and kick me some purplebelly ass."

Joe had finally stopped hollering and looked over at Mal. "What's with you, Mal? Don't you wanna give those uppity Alliance boys what for? I'm uppin' once I’m old enough."

Mal shook his head. "Nah. My Ma needs me here on the ranch. Besides, I couldn't imagine wantin' to live out in the black without the sun or the smell of the grass."

"Or the cow shit," Tommy reminded him. "Can't forget about the cow shit."

By now, they'd reached the church hall and could hear the sounds of the band playing a fast reel. They deposited the baskets on the potluck table and made their thank-yous to Preacher Wilkinson, who was presiding over the affair with his daughter Becky standing next to him. All Mal could figure was that Becky's dead Ma musta been the pretty one, because Becky certainly didn't get her angelic blond hair and cornflower blue eyes from scrawny, hooknosed Preacher Wilkinson. And she surely didn't get that chest or that backside from him.

Becky winked at Mal, and he could feel himself starting to blush. Oh hell, she'd prolly caught him staring at her cleavage, not that it was hard to miss in that little blue cotton sundress she was wearing. Tommy chose that moment to elbow him and whispered in his ear. "Ask her to dance, Reynolds. I'll even pony up for your second go at Lady Sally's if you actually get a look-see at her knockers in the altogether."

Mal had certainly spend considerable nights imagining what her knockers - and the rest of her - would look like in the altogether. Not that he was gonna 'fess that to Tommy, lest the older boy give him no end of hate, grief and discontent.

Right then, Reynolds. Look at her eyes. Those pretty bluebell eyes. Not that red pouty mouth and certainly not those knockers. He cleared his throat. "Miss Becky, may I have the honor of this dance?"

"Why certainly, Malcolm Reynolds. If it's OK with you, Daddy?" She lowered her lashes demurely and looked at her father, who nodded.

Never in his life had he been so grateful for his Ma teaching him how to dance as they made their way through a fast reel. At least he was more graceful than Joe, who looked like a pigeon-toed newborn goat out on the dance floor. When the dance came to an end and they caught their breath, she pulled Mal back into a dark corner, leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Let's get outta here!"

"Outta here? Becky, if yer daddy finds out..."

She giggled, showing off her dimples to devastating effect. "All the liquor he's been tossin' back tonight? Not likely. Come on, Mal, it'll be more fun than this boring old dance."

Oh hell, Mal thought. Now she's gone and added a pout to those dimples.

"Becky, I don't think..."

"Quit thinking so much!" She checked to make sure her father wasn't looking, then planted a liplock on him, pressing herself into him. She tasted like spring and strawberries, exactly how Mal imagined girls' mouths were supposed to taste.

The combination of Mal getting his first real kiss from a girl, the fact that it was from Becky, and the possibility of wiping the smirk off Tommy's face was more than he could resist. He grabbed her hand and they made their way out the back door.

She led him back to her house, and then up the stairs to her bedroom. Her pretty pink and frilly bedroom with...yep...a bed right smack in the middle of it. Mal had sudden visions of him burning in the Special Hell for defiling a preacher's daughter in her own bedroom, no less. "Becky, I...uhhh...isn't there somethin' in yer daddy's bible about this kinda sinnin'? Especially in your *bedroom*?"

Becky kicked off her sandals and sauntered over to Mal, winding her arms around his neck. "Know what I say? I say, you gotta sin to get saved. Otherwise, it just ain't no fun." She rotated her hips against him, and Mal could feel his groin starting to pull and tighten. "So what say you and I sin tonight and get saved at my daddy's sermon on Sunday?"

Mal groaned and licked his lips. "Becky, I ain't ever...I mean..."

She pulled down his suspenders and started to work on his shirt buttons. "Shhhh...you're talkin' too much, Malcolm Reynolds. Can't you find something better to do with that pretty mouth of yours?"

With a quick prayer for God to look the other way long enough for him to get his cherry busted, Mal found something else to do with his mouth. During this, she'd worked his shirt all the way off and let it drop to the floor. When her hands undid his belt, he broke the kiss and stepped back, trying to catch his breath. "Whoa there, darling. Slow down! Don't want my first time out the gate over in five seconds."

She smiled at him and pulled her dress off over her head, leaving her in just a pair of pale pink panties and a bra that barely contained those infamous knockers. "Your turn. Shuck 'em, mister!"

Mal kicked off his boots and carefully eased his pants down over his hard-on. Standing in front of her clad in only his underwear, responsbility suddenly hit him like a thunderbolt. The last thing he wanted was Preacher Wilkinson showing up on his front porch with a shotgun in one hand and a set of wedding rings in the other. "Uhhh…what're we gonna do so that you don't get...you know."

Becky leaned down (giving Mal a wonderful view of her well-rounded backside) and pulled a small packet out of her nightstand drawer, tossing it at Mal. "I assume you know how to use one of these?"

Tommy Chen might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but Mal was grateful that he'd at least explained the basics of how to put on a rubber. He nodded at her.

She stepped into his arms again, and Mal suddenly realized that he was gonna have to figure out how to undo that gorram bra. Can't be too hard – just two little hooks. Easy, peasy, right? After a bit of fumbling, he finally managed to get it undone and slowly drew it off Becky's body. Then those underpanties.

Heh, yep, natural blonde.

And then he just stared. Sweet Mother of Mercy, he'd never imagined those knockers would look so perfect, and he’d had himself a pretty vivid imagination. A dim part of his brain noted that Tommy was gonna eat crow over this. The rest of him was tentatively exploring with his hands. Feeling a bit bolder, he gave one nipple a quick lick, and then the other, causing Becky to rub up against him even more. She whispered in his ear the words that every non-sly teen-aged male in the 'verse wants to hear. "Now, please..."

He slid off his own underwear and eased Becky back on the bed. By now, she was rubbing up against him so hard he was sorely tempted to forego the rubber entirely, just to feel her surround him. Fortunately, the thought of Becky's daddy and that shotgun, not to mention his Ma flattening him with just one look, made him pull back, tear the packet open and roll it on.

He stopped just shy of entering her. "Becky, one last time. You sure 'bout this? Cos' if not, I can just, you know, excuse myself to your bathroom for a few minutes."

She stared up at him with those cornflower blue eyes. "I told you, Malcolm Reynolds, quit thinkin' so gorram much! I’m tryin' to make a man of ya."

Taking that as a yes, he eased himself inside her. Sweet Jesus, she was all heat and tightness, even through that gorram rubber. He started to slowly move his hips, praying that he wouldn't come right away. Seemed Becky had other ideas, though, as she grabbed his ass and hissed at him to go faster.

It was no use. Mal just couldn't stop himself. He got in just a few more quick thrusts before he couldn't hold off any longer and, in a burst of heat and light, came so hard he damn near passed out. Beat the hell outta having to excuse himself to the bathroom.

When he could finally breathe again, he looked down at lil' Becky Wilkinson giving him a devilish smile. "Hell, I'm sorry, Becky. I shoulda held out longer."

She reached up and fruffled his hair. "All that thinkin' is gonna be the death of you, Mal."

He grinned, then suddenly realized that he'd better hightail it, before her daddy came to check on his lil' angel. "Oh, shit! I gotta get outta here before..." She nodded.

Quickly cleaning up and dressing, Mal gave Becky one last kiss. "See ya at Sunday sermon, honey!" She dimpled back at him.

Mal practially ran the whole way home. He hoped like hell his Ma was already asleep, but he could see that the kitchen light was on. OK, now just don’t hit that creaky third step from the bottom, Reynolds, and ya should be good to go.

But no such luck. "Mal? That you?"

It was no use. He was busted. "Yeah, Ma." Caroline Reynolds got up to pour him some tea and sat back down at the kitchen table.

"How was the dance?"

"It was...yeah...good."

She indicated the empty baskets sitting on the counter. "Joe and Tommy brung these back. Joe said you left early. With Becky Wilkinson."

He was gonna pound Joe but good for ratting him out. "We didn't...that...I mean…"

"Son, I didn't get to where I am as a businesswoman without being able to read men like a book. So yes, you did that." She sighed. "Did you at least use protection? Cos' I’m surely not ready to be a grandma yet."

"Ma!" Mal blushed.

"Seeing as you’re turning red as a beet, I’m taking it as a yes." She cocked her head at him. “So I guess you’re a man now, huh? All ready to leave home and go fight with the Independents like Tommy?"

"I...I dunno. Am I?"

Caroline sipped her tea. "Of course you are, son. A man is just a boy old enough to ask that question."

COMMENTS

Saturday, November 11, 2006 1:19 PM

BLUEEYEDBRIGADIER


Aww...gotta love Mal's mom. Definitely can see where our Captain gets some his better quirks from;)

And I guess Becky Wilkinson had her eye on our favourite rancher's son for a while now...cuz I assume that even a rebellious preacher's daughter is not gonna just choose the first schmuck with lust in his eye for a tumble;D

BEB

Saturday, November 11, 2006 2:02 PM

EMPIREX


Yep! That's exactly the way it would have happened. And yeah, I love stories with Mal's mom in them too!

Saturday, November 11, 2006 9:28 PM

AMDOBELL


Very good story and I love the way you told it. That Becky is a lucky girl! Mal's Ma made me laugh, waiting up for him and fully aware of just what he had done and with who. Can't pull the wool over his mama's eyes. Ali D :~)
You can't take the sky from me

Saturday, November 11, 2006 9:32 PM

NEWOLDBROWNCOAT


not 1, but 2 shouts to the Finest House in NYC. Long live the Spider; the Lady and the Mick of Time; and my personal favorite, Ralph von WauWau.

Sunday, November 12, 2006 12:45 PM

WHOSTHATGIRL


Yay! Somebody got the reference!

Thursday, January 25, 2007 2:43 AM

BEKKAHTHEFIREFLYFAN


and... I don't know if you intentionally did this (I'd like to THINK you did!!)... Mal's Ma uses a Companion quote about being a man... maybe that's why Mal's been so terse with Inara... because his mama was a Companion, once upon a time...
Or am I stating previously obvious things?

Friday, March 23, 2007 6:10 AM

BROWNCOAT2007


lol, stating the perfectly obvious is FUN!! =) such a gorram sweet shiney fic this one, very well done!!


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AN: The full quote is 'Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,' from Shakespeare's Henry the Fourth. There. Consider yourself edumacated.


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