Page 10 of The Menagerie

About this man who’s completely blindsided him and who has somehow flawlessly combined feminine and masculine symbols on his body to create an image that isn’t wholly one or the other. Rowan wonders if maybe he’d gotten the rougher tattoos first—the knife and the skull and the pistols—then come to terms with something about himself that led him to add the lace, the flowers, the heart with a woman’s name on it. Or maybe it was the other way around, or maybe neither is true. Either way he desperately wants to find out.

So far he’s spent so much time ogling Malcolm’s body and tattoos that he’s hardly noticed hisfaceat all. And when he finally flits his eyes upward, once again his breath catches. Dark hair buzzed short at the sides and longer on top, curling attractively over his forehead. Thick, dark eyebrows that show so much expression even though he’s not actively talking. Sharp nose leading to pouty lips that Rowan both wants to kiss and see wrapped around his cock.

And hiseyes.

God.

Rowan’s always been good with words, but coffee and chocolate and all that other corny shit have nothing on the piercing golden caramel of this man’s eyes, and no other comparison does them justice. The whole black-and-white aesthetic he has going on is shattered by the pop of gold. And when his eyes flit around the room and land on Rowan’s—for the briefest of seconds—Rowan swears his heart stops.

It’s clear that the other men around him have seen him before. Hell, most of them have probably fucked him before. But they seem to be so unaffected by his presence, casually chatting with each other and hardly paying attention to him at all, and Rowan can’t help but want to grip each of them by the shoulders andshake, because how is no one else having as much of a reaction as he is right now?

And fuck,gorgeousis the perfect word, isn’t it? Rowan understands why he kept hearing it. He’s not hot, not handsome, not beautiful, not pretty. He’s a combination of all of those things in different, subtle ways. The intensely hot smolder in his eye, the handsome cut of his jaw, the beautiful curve of his cheekbones, the pretty fluttering of his eyelashes… it all adds up to something that Rowan likes far more than he should.

Just… gorgeous.

Throughout his life, especially during his wilder teenage phase, Rowan has been with nearly every type of guy under the sun. But Malcolm is different. It’s like heisthe sun, or some shit. Like he’s what Rowan’s been gravitating toward his whole life but never managed to catch up to. Always circling, never getting a chance to meet.

But now he has a chance. To fuck the sun, or whatever.

He can feel his insides bubbling with molten desire, then freezing solid at the realization that he might not get picked, and liquefying all over again at the thought of wrapping his hands around that pretty throat and watching those fucking caramel-gold eyes roll back. Club rules be damned.

Before he can get even more lost in thoughts of all the things he wants to do to the man in front of him, he speaks.

“Aright, let’s get the boring but necessary shit over with,” Malcolm says.

His voice is a soothing baritone with a hint of gravelly rasp to it. And his accent sounds like he’s actually from Boston; Rowan knows from overhearing the other men talk that many of them come from out of state to be here, so it’s a pleasant surprise.

Malcolm continues, “First off, if you somehow aren’t aware, this is a gangbang, not an orgy. You wanna fuck someone else here besides me, get your own goddamn room.”

Rowan barely stifles a laugh, has to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. He already likes this guy. Camilla’s words echo in his mind:Gorgeous, confident, incredible scene partner….

“Before I go over what’s on and off the table, my safewords will be the color system. If you’re not familiar with that, green is good to go, yellow is slow down or pause, and red is hard stop. Any questions on that?”

Malcolm looks around the room, and apparently seeing no objections, continues.

“Club rules require frequent negative STI tests. That bein’ said, if you’ve been with anyone unprotected since your last check-in, including oral, get the fuck out. This is a bareback scene, and even if you’ve got the best dick in Boston, I ain’t riskin’ anything.”

He looks pointedly at the crowd for a heated moment before three or four people exit, tails tucked between their legs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Malcolm mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, biceps bulging. “Anyone else?”

No one else leaves. Rowan’s glad he got his test results back yesterday.

“All right. I’ll go over what’s acceptable and not before I pick, so anyone not cool with anything can also fuck off. On the ‘yes’ list for tonight: oral and anal, fingering, rimming, spanking. I like it rough, so don’t hold back. All positions are on the table. So is double penetration, provided both’a you don’t have Mandingo dicks.”

There’s a murmur in the crowd and quite possibly in Rowan’s chest as well. He vaguely recognizes the name as an old porn star with a massive dick, but his brain is currently stuck on the possibility of fucking Malcolm at the same time as another man.

He’s been in a threesome before, once, but the bottom wasn’t interested in DPing. Even though Rowan’s never seen it outside of porn and he knows how much prep it takes, he can’t deny how hot it is.

“Calm down, fuckin’ animals,” Malcolm mumbles. “Club rules obviously apply for the ‘no’ list. No breath play or choking, though making me gag on your fingers or cock is fine. No cutting, bloodplay, deep biting, or anything else that will leave a lasting mark, including hickeys. No fisting. No toys. And no kissin’ on the mouth. You wanna lip-lock with someone else in here, be my guest, but I’ll knock you out if you try to kiss me. Spit’s fine, though.”

Rowan feels a shiver race down his spine. Well, there goes one thing he’d wanted to do with Malcolm’s mouth. But it’s understandable. He may be about to get fucked by an as-yet-unknown number of people, but kissing is a fairly intimate act, and Rowan doesn’t blame him for not wanting to do it with strangers.

“Also,” Malcolm continues, “I can’t believe I have to say this, but the only bodily fluids allowed on or in me are spit and come, got that?”

The grimace comes to Rowan’s face unintentionally, and he feels himself nodding along with the others.

“We’re all here for a good time. But break any of the rules or cross my boundaries—or anyone else’s here—and I’ll make damn sure you get blacklisted. Enrico’ll be happy to throw you out, but I have no problem kickin’ your ass myself.”

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