It was a Christmas night and the world was jolly and gay...
Except, it wasn't exactly so. There were some exceptions... like one miserable young man gulping down Firewhisky as it were water and not ridiculously strong alcoholic drink it was labeled to be.
And one particular young man was attempting to poison himself via the vile drink quite thoroughly.
Bleary green eyes stared at the half-empty glass dully, and the usually messy black hair was now looking like a crow's nest, what with its wildness and sagging spikiness... was spikiness even a word?
Anyway the youth was clothed in a haphazard mixture of clothes - old jeans trousers, too big green pullover and his feet were clad in a pair of sockets of different colors that had seen better times once upon a time, but now they were a sad example of worn-out, thoroughly used and abused representatives of their erstwhile line of clothes. Not that they were erstwhile to begin with, but...
The man hiccuped again. "It's ishn't fair..." He slurred to himself as he slumped over the old table, scowling thunderously. However, the scowl more likened to a petulant pout of a little boy who didn't get the newest toy he had eyed in a toy shop.
Only, in this case, the 'toy' our quite drunk protagonist was pouting after, was a pretty young woman, named Hermione Granger.
Yup, Harry Potter was dead drunk over his unrequited crush on Miss Bookworm, and lamenting the fact that one redheaded menace managed to secure the lovely woman's affections for himself quite thoroughly.
"Damn you, Ron..." The man, now known as Harry groaned out, his blood shot eyes glaring blearily at the image of his best friend. It was so not fair - here he was, fresh from defeating the Dark Wizard menace that plagued him almost his entire life, and Hermione helped him, but when it came to ... affections, it took only some stammering, cow eyes and quite an ugly flush on Ron's part to get Hermione jumping straight to his arms, even if the berk had left both of them in the middle of nowhere for three months - three months of tension, terror and wondering whether or not they would be alive the next hour, day or even week. It was not fun to have an entire troupe of Death Sissies on their tails and having to destroy Horcruxes at the same time.
And Harry had gotten to know just what a precious jewel of a girl was Hermione.
She followed him, bonked some sense into his hard head on the occasion, kept both of them safe with the advanced spells she knew - if it weren't for her, Harry would have been deader than dead, what with Voldemort putting a Taboo on his name. And she smelled just so... so...
Harry seriously wanted to get her for himself, but the dratted hero business came first - he scowled unhappily at the remembrance - and then it was already too late. Ron had apologized to her and in that moment formerly composed young woman changed back into the squealing girl in love... sadly, the girl in question wasn't in love with him.
'Sometimes, Ron just had to have all the luck on the world,' Harry mused sourly. He had family, he had fame, courtesy of Harry - his cowardly flight was apparently forgotten in the light of good will and blind love and some 'strategic maneuvering' or something like that, and he had what Harry wanted the most - Hermione.
"Mione..." Harry whined, thunking his head against the hard wood. "Why? Why are you marrying the - the berk? Wasn't I good enough for you?"
He was just lucky he was alone in the room - he had repaired the Godric's Hollow and attempted to live here - attempted because he was still floundering what to do now, when he finished being a hero big time. Sure, Ginny was making cow eyes at him, but Harry wished it would be a certain bushy-haired someone making cow eyes at him, but as she wasn't, it wasn't a go.
The room was dimly lit, painted in warm hues of a sunset and furnished with dark wood. It was moderately warm, because even if he was drunk, Harry wasn't quite as stupid as to stay in a cold-as-a-fuck room just to satisfy his masochistic tendencies, thank you very much!
"Why... couldn't you have chosen me?" He whined again, his voice suspiciously close to bawling.
Honestly, honor was such an unnecessary thing at a times...
Green eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses watered pathetically. "It's isn't fair, Mio..."
He had to be a shop-buddy for Ron for the engagement ring - of course, because he had known their Mio best, and becasuse Ron just had to schmooze off of his fame and get some additional rumors in process, Harry thought to himself spitefully. In fact, there were now some rumors, Harry had intended to marry the Weasel himself, what with Ron's loony and loopy behavior - honestly, Ron on pre-proposal jitters was spazzier than even Luna at her worst.
But oh no, if that had not been enough already, he had to help the berk plan the proposal, be his partner when learning the whole speech, and of course, the rotten cherry on the top of the proverbial shit pile, witnessing the actual proposal.
Of course, Harry would have been vindictively satisfied if Ron had bungled it up as it was his habit, but to his unutterable dismay, Ron just had to do the one thing Harry secretly wished him to crash and burn at, perfectly.
Harry never regretted that he was so good of a teacher as he had right then.
He had managed to heroically pretend all was happy and dandy with him, not that the two lovebirds noticed, and everyone else was preoccupied with the said lovebirds. Of course Ginny had sent him some meaningful looks, but he would sooner shagged Malfoy than he would have proposed to the obsessive little fan-girl.
Using his mad ninja skills he returned back home, went straight to the library and grabbed the first stiff drink he had managed to get his hands on.
In this case, it was Firewhisky.
And so, he began lamenting his single status quite thoroughly.
His messy hair was now even messier, his clothes even in kore miserable state if it was possible and he curled himself in a half-ball in a very comfortable armchair. It was something of a quirk of his, curling up like this - Mione said he reminded her of some or other detective named L - but it was just... natural position for him. He so didn't copy it from that sugar-obsessed freak - if anyone was copying it, it was the other bastard - ahem, person.
Why, oh why couldn't he have a llittle bit of love luck for once in his miserable life?
Harry sniffled wetly.
The world was so not fair...
"If only there was a second Hermione..." Harry mumbled to himself drunkenly.
However, that one phrase seemed to lit the only clutch of useful synapses in his brain - the ones that weren't already soaked with Firewhisky, at any rate.
Harry's blessing - or maybe curse - was, that he was extremely intelligent... if he wanted to be. Most of people mistook it for a cunning, because the solutions he had come up were original, slightly underhanded and most importantly, they worked.
Everyone overlooked the fact that for a good execution of the plan, you had to have knowledge, a ridiculous amount of exercise and an equally, if not more so, ridiculous amount of foolhardiness and luck. And it didn't help that Harry unknowingly cultivated the image of lone jock - good physical reflexes, but except in DADA, he wasn't particularly exceptional in educational measure.
Because of that, and the fact he had been Muggle-raised, Harry had been severely underestimated even by his chief ex-nemesis; Voldemort had tripped himself on that little fact more times he could count.
And now, Harry put his intelligence, foolhardiness and luck to the work.
Half an hour later, some indecipherable mumbling and a good amount of books looked up, turned over and thrown away, one Harry James Potter had an ideal solution to his little... problem.
Now, if only his headache wold leave him alone...
The night was silent, and except of the fire cracking in a fireplace, all was quiet.
Harry suppressed an amount of rising excitement in his chest. Just a little more time, and he would have his Hermione with him... again.
Green chalk... check. Silver knife... check.
Now all it remained was to write the appropriate runes on the floor and get the ritual going.
Feverish green eyes looked over the diagram - two overlapping squares, with their corners poking out from their ninety degree turn. He swallowed a dry gulp. He needed only the inscription of appropriate runes and invocation, along with something of Hermione's and then...
Hissing with pain he cut his hand and let the blood be absorbed into the green chalk.
Once again, he looked at the runes, blinking stupidly as the ancient writings swam in front of his pained eyes - he really should have gotten a good night's rest instead of this, but he was lonely, dang it!
Carefully, he knelt in the middle of the overlapping squares.
He gripped the smooth piece of chalk tightly, as if it were slippery as eel, despite of the proof of being contrary.
'Now or never.'
First rune at North...
The sharp lines made him wince - he never took Runes while in Hogwarts, and he was now really regretting it., as he clumsily finished the first sign.
"Pectus pectoris ut pectus pectoris.." He murmured, channeling his magic into the rune, making the previously chalky sign glow.
Next sign. South.
"Ego dico vos."
The stylized R sign also glowed.
So far, so good.
If only his head weren't feeling so wooly…
"Pectus pectoris ut pectus pectoris – " he murmured, his voice still trembling as he turned to the next corner.
"-ego queso vos."
The next stylized sign also glowed with almost unearthly green color, making the previously warmly colored room appear a little paler.
"Successio - Hermione Granger – " he choked out at the name of his beloved, but he forced himself to continue.
" – Quisnam has meus pectus pectoris"
The unearthly glow in the room strengthened.
"Vox ut existio…"
Final corner, northwest side –
"Audite meus placitum."
Harry barely managed to get the words out as the pressure in his head and heart mounted, but he still pressed on.
She would be with him after all of this would be finished…
It was worth it.
He snapped his phoenix –cored wand in a tight circle and then a quick jab.
"Tribuo suus volo!"
The eight signs glowed even stronger, somehow detaching themselves from the floor like some kind of strange live fireflies and began to move around the grimacing wizard in some kind of lazy circle, which was slowly, but surely picking the speed, until Harry couldn't differ one sign from another, all of them blending together into a blinding aquamarine stripe that made the nerves in his eyes almost scream with intensity.
And then, he fainted.
One Harry James Potter was at the moment one very unhappy camper.
His mouth tasted like battery acid – Firewhisky definitely didn't do a person a favor in the department of sweet breath, his tongue was numb, his head was pounding and did anyone get the number of the Thestral that had just ran him over?
But then, he remembered.
He jack-knifed up, only to be met with a barrel of some ancient gun and a pair of very unhappy, very familiar eyes.
"Are you the idiot that somehow managed to get me out of my wedding?" The smooth male voice asked him, with a dangerous growl mixed in.
Harry blinked owlishly at the strangler that was standing in front of him.
He was clothed in rust-colored shirt that was loosely opened until the middle of the chest, sandy brown pants with a pipe lining at the outer sides and a pair of low-cut shoes.
The strange thing was the man wore brown leather suspenders cum weapon holsters, and low on his hips, there was also a dark brown leather pistol belt.
The man was fairly slim, but yet solid enough to give off an impression of a particularly stubborn rock.
(Don't ask Harry about stubborn rocks. Really, don't.)
After a few moments of dumbfounded perusal Harry spoke out.
"You're not Hermione."
Those familiarly shaped eyes narrowed. "Do I look like a girl?" The man practically snarled at him as his eyebrow twitched with annoyance.
"You should." Harry replied mournfully. "I said I wanted a girl."
"And I wanted for the Alliance to kick the bucket, but it's not gonna happen anytime soon. So suck it up and answer my question." The man snapped back. "Who are you and how did you get me to - wherever we are?"
Harry sighed. "I am Harry. And you are currently in my home." He snapped back as he wearily squeezed his eyes close. It was just too early for this shit.
"And your home is where?" The man insisted.
He really had pretty cornflower blue eyes, Harry noticed absentmindedly. Not like Hermione's, but similar enough - at least in shape, if not in color. His face was stern and not chiseled enough to be termed classically beautiful, but it still had something that attracted Harry to the man like a bee to the honey.
And the man's short brown hair was so silky-looking –
"Fuck." He cursed. Warily, he opened his eyes. Nope, not hallucinating. No beautiful chick here.
Just a very male Hermione without her bushy hair and brown eyes.
'What the fuck went wrong?'
He tried to stand up, but the gun's muzzle kissed the hollow of his throat warningly.
"Want to have another breathing hole, I can accommodate you." The man warned him, his voice exotically sounding with the strange accent. "Now, where are we?
"England, Godric's Hollow." He answered automatically, his brain already trying to whirl through the possibilities of just what went wrong. "Will you let me up now?"
He winced at how whiny his voice was sounding. But really, having an hangover from hell really didn't help his disposition, and doing the strange ritual just to alleviate his loneliness –
Hermione would have had his hide if she had known just how stupid, irresponsible and foolhardy he was being right now.
The man stared at him, his eyes wide and, Harry noticed again, really really pretty blue.
In his long life, Malcolm 'Mal' Reynolds had been through many dangerous, baffling or outright weird situations, but this one took the cake.
He was about to be married to some chick back on some backwater planet, but in the middle of the ceremony, some bastard had squeezed him through the straw, seemingly got his organs through the grinder and finally spat him out in what seemed to be a fairly well-off house on top of the drunk-as-a-skunk guy.
Well, at least the guy was fairly harmless and very helpless.
He reminded Mal of a scruffy, abandoned kitten what with his helpless pose and scrawny shape under all the all-too-big clothes. He winced at the thought what would River and Zoe have done to the poor kid if they ever saw him.
Massive squealing and something terrible named 'sisterly hugs' came to mind.
Of course, the females weren't very inclined to squeal at everything cute, but Mal just… knew. Let the females stare at something poor, cute and abandoned for a longer period of time and you get yourself a new pair of hungry mouth to feed, while the girls would torture their newest project with… whatever they tortured their chosen subject with.
And then, those eyes fluttered open, and Mal was taken aback by those unnaturally green eyes.
There weren't many things that were colored like summer leaves or emeralds, but it appeared the kid's orbs were just it. On the black market, Mal mused, the kid would reach a high price, if only for his uniquely colored eyes.
And much to his hidden surprise, the kid wasn't afraid of him… or his gun. He even had the gals to complain Mal wasn't a girl! What the heck? Did the brat somehow know about that miserable bonnet episode?
He'd better not.
But in… England?
Mal wasn't sure whether he was yanked by his proverbial chain or he had, by some kind of a weird happenstance, really landed back in time.
And if he had landed back in time…just what kind of technology could manage to do that?
Slowly, he removed the nozzle of the gun off of that fragile collarbone.
"Try anything …" He muttered half-heartedly, making the boy in front of him roll his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah." The boy - he really had to find out his name - interrupted him with a long-suffering sigh. A moment later, the boy grimaced.
"Fuck. I swear, doing the ritual full on Firewhisky is one of the dumbest ideas ever. " The youth hissed through his teeth as he cautiously straightened out.
Fragile shoulders slumping, his… host - much to Mal's incredulous amusement - pouted.
"So… A ritual?" Mal prodded, receiving a glare for his efforts.
"Yeah. How I got you of all people, it's beyond me at the time," the youth grouched back, making Mal half-offended.
He wasn't such a bad catch, was he?
Wait - why was he even thinking about himself as being a good catch, anyway? He should have been concerned about returning back home, and not about hare-brained schemes of some angsty teenager!
"So… can you get me back to… whenever you managed to get me from?" Mal asked, half-amused and half-irritated.
He was rewarded with a blood-shot green-eyed glare.
"Gimme some time, will ya?" The crazy berk snapped back. "I could attempt to get you back… if you want to crash-land to wherever you came, in prafactors."
Mal's eyes widened with horror at the threat. He liked to be in one piece, damn it!
"So, what now?" he asked rather helplessly.
The teenager sheepishly ruffled his hair. "Well, you could tell me your name for beginning… and then let's go find something to eat." He looked faintly green still. "After I get some of that hangover potion."
Mal blinked. "Good idea. I was starving anyway. I am Mal Reynolds."
Those green eyes lightened a bit. "And I am Harry Potter. So, shall we?"
Mal nodded mockingly.
Harry tilted his head as he slowly stood up.
"If I hadn't know better, I would say you just want to ogle my ass."
Mal shrugged. "And if I did?" He asked, feeling daring and just a little bit insane.
Those green eyes scrutinized him for a moment, making Mal's skin prickle with mild discomfort. Really, those eyes were like a pair of green lasers… only less harmful.
Then, those pink lips curled up in an amused smirk.
Mal gawped for a moment, before hurrying after his unintentional host.
Later on, Mal was watching the snow falling on the ground, while Harry was pouring over the texts he had used for the ritual.
The silence was comfortable one, interrupted only by the faint crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the books being checked through and the list's whispering.
Finally, Mal became tired of just gawking at the fluffy snowflakes and turned back to Harry.
"May I help?" he asked lowly, making the green-eyed youth startle a bit.
"Merlin! Warn me a bit before you scare me half to death, will ya?" Harry huffed back as he recognized his voice.
Mel just smirked. Harry had been just so amusing when startled Mal didn't think he would have ceased teasing the slender wizard. Yes, Harry told him the general ins and outs of the Wizarding World, and Mal told him a little about Serenity and the world he was living in.
Harry scrunched his nose thoughtfully. " I don't know…. But if you know Latin…?"
Mal blinked. "I am passable, if you mean that." He replied, watching Harry slump further in the chair.
"Right. Then you wouldn't be of much help…" Harry muttered dejectedly, making Mal bristle.
Glaring at the wizard, Mal snatched the book he was perusing, disregarding Harry's taken-aback yelp at his action.
"You said there was some kind of an incantation, - " he probed making the young wizard wince.
"Yeah. Page 96." Harry mumbled sulkily. "Have fucking fun with it." He snapped, making Mal scoff at his immature behavior.
It was a little harder to read, what with the practically ancient English language, but Mal managed. His brows, however, furrowed when he came to the Incantation.
'Pectus pectoris ut pectus pectoris...EGO dico vos , Pectus pectoris ut pectus pectoris , EGO queso vos. Successio….., quisnam has meus pectus pectoris. Vox ut exsisto , audite meus placitum. Tribuo suus volo.'
Luckily for Mal, his knowledge of Latin was more than passable enough to solve the incantation.
'Heart to heart...I call you, Heart to heart, I beseech you. Descendant of …., who has my heart. Powers that be, hear my plea. Give her to me.'
"Harry. How did you translate the… Hermione Granger person thing?" he asked thoughtfully.
"Uh…I don't know. I used 'Succesio', I think.
Mal stared at him. "'Succesio' as in…?" He prodded further, getting a really sick feeling in his stomach.
Harry blinked. "Alternate one… you know, 'the other one'."
Mal growled. "And here you go. If ya wanted your girl so much, you should have used 'alterna' instead of 'succesio'. 'Succesio' means a successor, a descendant, you idiot!"
Harry's jaw dropped.
"Does that count as a case of really weird kind of pedophilia?" He asked back weakly.
Mal glared back at him. "You tell me," he huffed, irritated.
Harry shook his head. " So you're Hermione's descendant…. Weird. "He laughed weakly.
Mal closed the book with a mite harsher force he should have used.
"It could've gone better if you were a girl." Harry continued, not heeding Mal's thunderous mood.
"It could've gone even better if you just laid off of Firewhisky and stopped whining about your unrequited crush!" Mal snapped back as he slammed the book back on the table with a sharp 'thwack' sound.
Harry growled. That Mal bastard was just unbelievable!
They - Mal, really - finally discovered just where he had managed to mess up the ritual, and then when Harry mentioned his little… wish, Mel turned into some kind of an asshole.
"You are an inconsiderate idiot." Harry snapped back.
"And you are whiny failure who fucked up the gorramit ritual so that I can't go home now!" Mal growled back, stepping closer.
Harry jumped off of the chair incensed. He felt his face burning and his fingers itched for a wand to curse the idiot something terrible.
"Well, sucks to be you, 'cause I am the only chance you get to make your merry way to whichever hole I managed to yank you out!" He snapped back. "And I pity the girl who wants to marry your ice-cubed ass!"
"And I am thanking whoever that's above that the Granger girl chose the other kid, because you'd drive her spare just an hour after wedding!" Mal retorted childishly, making Harry snarl wordlessly as he lunged against him to choke the life out of him.
Harry had seen red at Mal's latest remark. He would have replied with some kind of a witty retort, but he was so pissed off he thought only of how to deal the bastard some physical damage… the old way.
Harry's right fist connected with Mal's left half of jaw, momentarily making him stumble back in shock.
Those pretty cornflower blue eyes widened with surprise, and then darkened with fury. And then, Mal reacted.
Harry had to thank his faster reflexes for avoiding most of Mal's attempts to punch him, but at the same time, it irked him that his punches , with the exception of the first one, didn't have any effect on the space cowboy that was currently pursuing him.
Then, Mal faked the left, and when Harry got into the avoiding maneuver, Mal quickly tripped him, making him crash on the floor and causing him to see the stars. Mal quickly followed him, situating himself between the youth's legs and securing both of Harry's hands by his wrists beside Harry's head. Both of them panted harshly with exertion, as neither of them was entirely recovered from the ritual yet.
"You fucking bastard…" Harry hissed at Mal's smirking face, incensed. He tried to buck the man off, but he succeeded only in making the friction between both of their crotches.
"And you are a desperate-for-sex brat." Mal retorted back with gritted teeth.
Harry scowled. "Take that back!" He yelled, his eyes blazing with fury.
Mal tilted his head slightly. "Which one? That you are desperate for sex, or that you are a brat? Both of them hold true, you know."
"Both of them!" Harry barked back, still struggling. "Now let me go so I can kick your ass properly!"
"You couldn't even if I had both my hands and feet tied," Mal snapped back, as he stared at the furious, deliciously blushing face of his unexpected host.
"Care to test that little theory of yours?" The wizard hissed back as he tried to yank his right hand out of the steel grip around his wrist.
"That would take a special brand of stupid." Mal scoffed as his eyes glued themselves to the pink lips of his captive. "Which I am not."
"You could at least try to be one," Harry commented sourly, which elicited a bark of amusement from Mal's throat.
"Nope, no can do. Besides… I still owe you for that lucky shot of yours." Mal smirked at Harry's suddenly dread-filled face.
"So just whack me one and we're even." Harry managed to speak up, even if those suddenly wicked eyes were beginning to make him a bit too uneasy for his own good.
"Yeah, but I'm the injured party here so I'll decide the… punishment." His captive - now captor muttered lowly, making Harry feel like a tiny mouse in front of a very hungry falcon.
Mal's smirk didn't help the things. In fact, it made it worse!
Harry swallowed dryly. His eyes behind the glasses just about bugged out as he saw Mal's face nearing his. "Uh… May I remind you that you were just about to get married?" his voice became uncomfortably squeaky as he felt Mal's breath on his face.
"Thanks to you, the wedding is off. " Mal's smirk became a dangerous grin.
"Gee, you really have a way to make a guy feel honored," He mumbled back, unwittingly feeling his cheeks becoming warm with chagrined embarrassment.
"Why, thank you," Mal inclined his head mock-modestly, but the shit-eating grin on his face still remained making Harry want to run for the hills and never come back.
Both cornflower blue and emerald green eyes locked in a stare - the blue eyes heating with wicked intent, while the green ones were darkening with embarrassment.
"You know, you wined and dined me… all that is left is a wreath of flowers and a dance. " Mal's voice deepened, gaining a velvety quality that made Harry shiver for some reason.
"Well… Would a mistletoe above us count?" He asked innocently. "And for dancing, sorry, no can do. I have two left feet at it anyway."
That raspy chuckle made an appearance again. "Wonderful." Harry didn't even have a time to blink as he felt a pair of warm, chapped lips on his mouth.
Harry's jaw unintentionally slackened with surprise, giving Mal an ample time to sneak his tongue and salaciously sample the taste of his mouth.
"M-mmph!" Harry tried to talk, but Mal's assault was relentless.
As for Mal, the kiss that had been intended to be a punishment, turned out to be very…. interesting.
Not that he hadn't kissed a male in his younger and more foolish years, it was just, his taster were usually switching between asexual and female-sexual if given a chance. So this was just as big of a surprise as it had been for Harry. However, Mal being Mal quickly caught the proverbial tide and began to explore that deliciously succulent mouth while he still had surprise on his side.
He quickly found out Harry hadn't been kissed much in the past, given by how clumsily the kid followed his lead, but that could be remedied with some exercise and for some reason Mal didn't mind being a teacher cum guinea pig in that particular experiment.
Harry's mouth tasted of warmth, tea and apple pie with an underlying current of battery acid. It should have made Mal feel repulsed by the mixture - battery acid was a nasty business to taste, after all, but instead of that, he only felt his intrigue and excitement rising.
He regretfully tore himself away from the kiss, allowing both of them to breathe again.
Both of them panted harshly, with Harry staring at the man above him wide-eyed with shock and daze dancing in his verdant orbs.
Absentmindedly, he licked his lips, his heart thudding louder as he spied those cornflower blue eyes darkening even further and the pupils dilated with what he now knew was unmistakable lust.
"You don't want to do that…" Harry panted out, his breath husky with lack of air and a whole lot of arousal.
"How would you know that?" Mal questioned him as he let more of his weight press down on his prey.
"What would your bride say?" Harry retorted, a mild irritation in his voice.
The man's eyebrow quirked. "Doesn't matter. She would probably wanted to watch us, anyway." He grinned at Harry's scandalized gasp and not waiting for the next rebuff, swept down to claim those wonderfully ravished lips into another breath-taking kiss.
Harry couldn't help but shudder at the sensual attack even if it was all wrong.
He should've been kissing a female, this should have been Hermione and not her descendant, no matter how grown up he looked like - from Harry's point of view the man was barely a twinkle in his many times great-grandparent's eyes, if even that. And even if Mal was older than him, it didn't change the fact that Harry was technically committing a pedophilia and worse, enjoying it.
The warm weight on his body made him moan and he gasped as the other's hips gently ground into his, creating a delicious friction that warmed his loins with a treacherous fire.
"You - ah! - like girls!" He accused on the verge of being breathless again.
"And you whine after that Granger girl." The man above him growled crankily. "So shut up and enjoy."
Harry scowled at the man, but a particularly hard shove made him close his eyes and groan.
"You somehow managed to take me from my time and caused me to miss my wedding night," Mal hissed into his ear threateningly. "Then you have the gall to moan about me not being a girl and then, you punch me on the jaw."
"I already said I was sorry!" Harry snapped back, gasping as he felt a stinging bite on his neck.
"Sorry is not enough," Mal said wickedly. "And I really doubt that spanking would cause you to express some genuine regret, so we are going this way to correct your misbehavior."
Harry swallowed a ball of dread in his throat down.
"Still, it's not right." He tried once again to deter the man above him from his chosen course.
Mal stared at his chosen prey for a long minute. And then slow, sensual smirk appeared on his face as he spoke out the damning words.
"I aim to misbehave."
He stopped Harry's indignant yelp with a scorching kiss.
Later on, Harry couldn't remember for all he was worth just why he had protested against… that kind of a punishment. Mal was a warm furnace od sensuality, from the kisses to the nuzzles against his face and then light bites to his throat and then, it was too hit and his skin itched from having too many garments on, so it was totally natural progression to shed some.
Mal finally released Harry's wrists, in the favor of dragging his hands down the jumper and then wiggling his fingers under the hem, searching for that warm patch of vulnerable skin that would leave his prey gasping with shock and arching upward in search for more.
The first touch of that warm, rough-palmed hand on his skin was indeed a shock for the wizard. It was like he had been touched with a live wire, as the shock-wave of warmth traveled through his skin and nerves, making him arch in the greedy touch like a willing sacrifice.
"Mm - Mal – " he choked out, as he reached for those shirt-clad shoulders, grabbing them as if they were the only solid thing in his world as he was drowning in pleasure.
"Harry," Mal growled back as he exposed the stomach, his palm sliding up the soft skin and toward the chest, dragging the green jumper along and making Harry shiver at the unexpectedly sensual touch. Harry wiggled impatiently as the fingers caressed his collarbone and then, Mal lowered himself, nuzzling his face into Harry's stomach, eliciting both a startled gasp and a choked laughter for his efforts, which he quickly changed into a small yelp as he gently bit the skin below the small navel.
"You're fucking delicious…" he mumbled to the wizard as he breathed across the abused patch of pale skin, making his prey shiver and buck upward.
"And you are fucking overdressed," Harry growled back, making him huff with laughter.
Trembling fingers slid against the worn shirt, following the lines until Harry hit the still-unopened buttons. And then, inch by a slow inch, he began to open the buttons, making Mal groan in discontentment - the small touches to his skin were gentle and fleeting, like the feathers of some exotic bird and he wanted to get the damned thing off so badly he almost didn't care it was ripped.
The shirt was tugged out of the trousers sharply, making him grin with anticipation as he watched how those green eyes widened with awe and want.
He bent down for one more of those drugging kisses, making a lewd pass across those panting mouth before he dipped into it, enticing the tongue that laid here into a playful tag and chase which eventually led it into his own mouth and he shivered as their naked skin touched together - still partially clothed, his weapon harness and suspenders would have to go, but at least it was something –
Meanwhile, Harry was becoming used to the dance of tongues and even began eagerly participating in it, teasing the agile muscle and slipping against the other's teeth and hum, finding out the sensitive places that made him hum and growl.
His fingers then touched the leather suspenders, somehow managing to shrug them down the wide shoulders, the leather's unique scent wafting to his nose and making something in his belly curl with pleasure.
He unconsciously contracted his legs, lifting his knees off the floor and making himself all the more vulnerable while the head that was in his belly slowly centered in his groin, making him whine for something - anything - to alleviate it.
And then, there was a pause, while Mal lightly tugged him upward, his other hand sliding in, as he seamlessly got the offending piece of the cloth off of Harry's body, the gentle scratch of wool tickling his fingers for a moment.
A moment later, and Harry's chest was bare for his perusal, pale and slender and looking fragile, yet with that kind of soft, gentle light that beckoned Mal to touch, to taste and own for himself he had never felt before.
Harry then beckoned him, and Mal went willingly, shivering as he felt the fingers under the shirt, and then, the fabric slid down slowly, as if reluctant to leave the warm skin it clung to for so long of a time.
"You are a tease, you know that?" He murmured to his companion lowly, as he looked into those hazy green eyes.
"No more than you are," The black haired youth muttered back with a fetching blush on his cheeks.
They shared a small, breathless chuckle between them as they began to kiss anew, this time with Mal leading as he nibbled the slender throat he had marked before, and then, he nipped around, licked at the collarbone before kissing downward to the right nipple, enjoying the feel of those small hands sliding from his sides to the back and slowly petting him, with an occasional scratch biting into his skin.
The slender hands slid down his stomach as he was busy with worrying one of those tempting nipples between his teeth, and rested on his hips, clutching for a moment as Harry gasped when he bit a particularly sensitive place.
Those clever little fingers slid in the place between the pants and naked skin, making him shudder with arousal - his groin was feeling hot and heavy and tense, and he felt as if he could burst any minute now as the minx caressed his back , slowly coming to the front teasing him with the promise of pleasure.
Harry smiled as he heard the gasp, before Mal straightened out, his hair messier than ever, and staring at him with eyes that were so very hungry and making him lose his leverage at the process.
And then, Mal was on him again, like a ravenous beast, those warm hands tearing down his worn trousers as if they were nothing - with jerked out movements the brunet managed to get both the trousers and underwear in one fell sweep –
Harry reached to stop him too late, and he found himself naked as he was on the day he had been born in front of this stranger, making him feel uncharacteristically shy again.
"No need to be shy now, kitten," Mal smirked as his embarrassed prey wolfishly. "You don't have anything I ain't seen yet."
Harry spluttered at the matter-of-fact words. "You bastard – " he tried to cover his groin, embarrassed at the rise of his member now as he was wholly naked - the clothes offered some measure of protection, but being so wholly naked, he felt more vulnerable than ever and left him really wishing for punching the man's nose for his impudence. However, his hands had done him more discomfort than alleviating him of, as his hips involuntarily jerked up in his hands, making him blush like an overripe cherry. Hearing Mal chuckle, he tried to slink away, but strong hands on his hips prevented any measure of the flight.
"You're embarrassed. How cute." Mal drawled out as he watched at his prey, all gangly and awkward and really not knowing what to do with itself.
"And you're being a jerk," Harry snapped back, green eyes glaring at him with defiance and unholy level of embarrassment.
"Next thing you will tell me you are really a virgin – " Mal teased him, but looking at the youth's mortified face made his jaw drop.
"Holy shit. You really are, aren't you?" he asked, half incredulous, and half disbelieving.
This was the last straw for the already mortified wizard.
Disregarding his modesty for a moment, he surged forward, pushing the taken - aback Mal on his ass and spicing the entire thing with a kick in the man's stomach for a good measure.
"Yeah, so what?" He snapped out, as he stood up, scowling fiercely, making a move to get away, but the hand on his left angle stopped him.
"Wait! I am sorry, okay?" Mal asked him, his cornflower blue eyes wide , hair mussed and with his cheeks flushed with mortification he looked like a little boy that was caught with his hand in a jar full of cookies. "I didn't meant to …." He coughed as he lowered his eyes. " Make fun of you. It's just, in my world it's very rare to stay a virgin and with you looking like that, you could've had any number of partners before me. "
Harry scoffed. "Well, you had your share of sick fun. Happy now?" Those green eyes glared at him, making Mal wince at the amount of hurt and shame reflected in them.
"No." He replied back before he could think. "I am not happy." He elaborated as Harry began to tug his leg out of the hold Mal was having it in.
Instead of standing up, he closed in and embraced the teen's upper tights. "I admit, I began this as a kind of a punishment, but I would never be as sick as to make fun of you to be a virgin." He said gruffly, not daring to look into those accusing eyes. "Give me a chance. Please."
It was the plea that did Harry's resolve to kick the bastard into his nuts in.
Sighing, he crouched down, still uncomfortably aware of his nakedness and closeness to the chief bastard that called himself Mal Reynolds.
Mal's head shot up at this single word.
"But if you ever make a fun of me, I reserve the right to kick you in the nuts." Harry mumbled out, ducking his head in embarrassment at the relief on Mal's face.
"And I will let you do it," Mal agreed, smiling faintly. "Now where were we?"
Harry smirked. "Someone's pants gotta go." He licked his lips, and Mal chuckled, reaching with his hand to close at lower part of Harry's skull, as if he were cradling a newborn, and tugged him in a gentle kiss.
"That they do. Care to do the honors?" He muttered to the teen hoarsely, prompting Harry to flush again as he led Harry's hand to the belt of his trousers.
Hesitantly, Harry touched the belt and undid it slowly, acutely feeling every crease and smoothed out nuance in the thick dark strip of leather. Then, he popped out the first button… and then another… and another, his cheeks flushing at the intimate heat of the other's groin pressing against his hand.
As Mal didn't have his weapon belt on, it was now only a matter of time on how to get the pants off - and despite the material looking unwieldy, the fabric slid off with little to no resistance, and Harry gasped as he finally saw him guest fully naked.
Mal was a paragon of a masculine force - nothing like Harry's own slender frame - he was all planes and angles and muscled, while Harry's Seeker built made him curiously androgynous in some aspects.
"You're freeballing around?" Harry asked incredulously, making Mal chuckle at the disbelief in his voice.
"Just for this occasion, yes I do." Mal muttered back, smiling slightly at Harry's mortified face at his question.
"Right." Harry agreed quickly. "Forgot you had some kind of a wedding to attend to."
Mal blinked. Had it really passed only four hours since he had been abducted from his own wedding? For him, it seemed like an eternity away.
"Never mind the wedding," he growled back at his soon-to-be partner. "We gotta do something far more interesting than yapping about dresses and whatnot."
With that said, he tugged Harry into a fierce kiss, making the teen moan breathlessly against his lips.
"You are the friggin' most confusing creature I've ever known," Mal panted against Harry's lips as they came back for air. "You confuse me with your strange habits. You piss me off easier than Operative, and you make me laugh." He nuzzled the bite on Harry's neck, prompting a gasp. "You're one bitchy little kitten with sharp claws and I dread to find out just what you could do with River and Zoe in a tow. " He pinched one of the tempting nipples, making Harry emit a startled moan.
"You are a virgin yet you get me going faster than Serenity on the flight from a band of Alliance thugs. Heck, you've made me apologize. Me. " He carefully bit the already abused lip of his playmate.
"I – " Harry started to respond, but it ended in a hiss as his neck was once more taken hostage by those teeth that nipped harshly at the tender skin. Somehow, he managed to embrace Mal, also nuzzling into the side of his neck, and then, he felt warm, rough-palmed hands on his ass, making him fall forward against Mal's chest with a yelp of surprise.
Mal, on the other hand, grinned like a kid who got his favorite sweet. "Ready for the main event?" He asked, as his fingers crept to the tempting crack between the two globes.
Wide-eyes, Harry tried to back out from the sensual touch. "Mal! That's dirty! I am dirty here!"
Mal huffed with amusement. "Doesn't matter. Do your hocus-pocus and get me something slick to work with." He commanded, looking at those huge green orbs behind the dorky glasses.
Sighing with defeat, Harry nodded and wordlessly recalled his wand. A small charm later, he was left squeaky clean and weirdly uncomfortable what with the slickness of his passage. He never thought that the charms could be used like… that, put apparently they could be - he flushed at the thought what Hermione would've said if he ever told her about his indiscretion while applying sun tan lotion spell to… where the sun doesn't shine.
"R-Ready." His voice stuttered a little, but the sight on Mal's face made him all the more excited and nervous at the same time.
Mal sat down on his knees, groaning a little at the pressure - he wasn't as young as he had once been, and the latest heist left some limitations on his body. "C'mere," He motioned to the hesitant wizard, with a small smirk on his face. "Straddle me."
Slowly, Harry awkwardly shuffled near to him, and with a little help from Mal, he soon straddled the man, feeling a little foolish and awkwardly aroused at the touch of their members.
"Lean forward a little." Mal's voice at this point could be called a seductive purr that made Harry shudder a little at the unvoiced promises within.
Carefully, he leaned forward, shivering as those hands caressed his ass gently, before the fingers were treading the crack again, and again, making him move restlessly against the man. He jerked as the pleasure from involuntarily touching the man's member with his own zinged up his spine, making the fingers of Mal's right hand cleverly sliding deeper into the crevice, making him shiver with the new, unfamiliar feelings.
He pressed his hips forward again, and was rewarded by the same zing of pleasure and when he unconsciously moved back, the fingers slid into the slick opening slowly, making him clench down a little.
"Fuck, you re tight," Mal said hoarsely, watching the sight of Harry pleasuring himself with his body intently, wanting to burn the image in his mind for later.
Forward and back. Forward and back. Their movements became repetitive, and Mal felt their skin heating up and beading with sweat. Finally, it was enough.
"Harry, lift yourself up a bit." He ordered gruffly, making the youth hesitantly comply with his words. He grabbed one of Harry's hips, and with his other hand, he supported him member, positioning it at the loosened opening that promised such an amount of pleasure.
He shivered at the feeling, the outer muscles of Harry's opening already twitching at the contact with his member and he could only imagine the furnace within. His jaw twitched a little at the sensations before he could rein himself in.
"Now?" Harry asked, sounding a little lost as he panted slightly. His skin was flushed, Mal noticed, black hair matted with sweat and wilder than ever and the eyes behind those fogged glasses were wide and vulnerable. In that moment, Mal could never, ever let go of this little gift he had found so very unexpectedly.
"Now, sit down." He rasped out, almost at the end of his wits with the sensual torture he was holding himself under.
He watched, as Harry gingerly complied, those green eyes widening as he hasped at the new feeling and Mal couldn't help himself but groan when he felt the canal gripping him like a wet, live glove, yet incomparably tighter and hotter and overall…perfect.
Uncomfortably, Harry shifted a little - Mall was thicker and longer than his fingers and Harry seriously doubted that was it, even if Mal's face expressed sheer ecstasy at the action.
"Mal - I don't feel so good." He confessed, his voice hitching and trembling as he tried to adjust.
"Give it – damn, give it time," Mal huffed back, as he gripped Harry's naked hips in a bruising grip. "Move when you are ready. "
Harry blinked. "I have to move again?" He balked, scowling. Going down the first time was hard enough, thank you very much!
His lips were seized in a small, reassuring kiss.
"Yeah. Trust me."
And damn it, Harry was helpless against that cajoling, purred out voice.
Inhaling deeply he nodded and slowly began to move upwards, grimacing a little at the friction.
And down. Then once again, up, down, up, down, and then, Mal did something with his hips, and Harry couldn't help but buck involuntarily, yelping with surprise at the pleasure that flashed through his nerves.
It was enough, yet it was too little. It made Harry hungry for more and quite willing to move again.
"Found it, eh?" Mal's triumphant grin earned him a half-hearted scowl, but Harry couldn't find it within him to be angry right now.
Not when he had a pleasure to chase after.
"Dick," He insulted the grinning space cowboy breathlessly as he strained his legs, trying to get to that new high again.
"Why, thank you," Mal choked out a short laugh, but then Harry silenced him with a kiss.
They soon found the rhythm, sliding against each other as a well-oiled machine, driving each other higher with little kisses, nips and pleasure-driven rush that was bordering to insanity.
They simultaneously speed up, huffing, grunting and emitting little cries, before the coil within their bellies tightened too much and finally shattered in a supernova of white- hot pleasure that made Harry scream out, while Mal managed to get out a strangled growl.
They held the pose for another moment, before they slumped into a boneless heap of trembling muscles and sweaty skin, painting for oxygen with greedy breaths.
"So, how'd you like our little dance?" Mal asked the slender wizard in his lap after a little while.
Harry grinned wildly, green eyes shining behind the fogged up spectacles. "I could definitely got used to that kind of dancing." He wheezed out, still feeling on a cloud nine.
Mal smirked smugly at the disheveled teen on his lap, not even minding the streaks of come between them. "Still, I am sorry for your wedding." Harry continued, downtrodden a little. "I know I am a poor substitute and I am sorry for summoning you – "
He was interrupted by Mal's hearty chuckle. "Don't be. It was the most fun I've had in a while. And… you remember what I said about you wining and dining me, along with gifting me flowers?"
Harry nodded cautiously, as something nagged in the back of his mind. "Yeah. So what?"
Mal's smile morphed into a grin of shit-eating proportions. "Well… How to say it… We just became married."
Verdant eyes behind those dorky glasses widened to epic proportions.
Mal just chuckled at his new husband's - he could get used to the term - incredulous squawk as he pressed a tiny kiss on his new spouse's nose.
"Merry Christmas, darling."
And if Harry attempted to choke a living shit out of him again, Mal just cheerfully diverted the attacks in the favor of snogging the wizard senseless.
Even if snogging didn't really save him from somehow acquiring a set of wolf's ears and a tail next morning.
Well, at least their life together would be interesting.