Page 108 of The Menagerie

“You’ll love it.”

“Have you taken it before?”

The grin Jeremiah gives him is proud and devastatingly handsome. “I used to teach it.”

Rowan’s stunned into silence, which makes the other man laugh again.

“Anything to drink before you head out?”

It takes him a solid five seconds to answer. “Can I have a virgin strawberry seltzer? With lime?”

As Jeremiah whips up Rowan’s drink, Rowan watches him work, deft hands twirling the glass and flipping a cocktail napkin down on the bar as a coaster.

“Hey, do you only work on the weekends?” Rowan asks as Jeremiah adds a freshly cut lime wedge to Rowan’s glass.

He doesn’t even know why he’s asking, really. Because yeah, Jeremiah is fucking hot.Especiallyso tonight with one of his signature black button-ups pulling tight across his chest, a silver mesh top underneath that shines like chain mail when he turns the right way in the dim light. His hair’s gotten longer too—now more of a twist style than the sponge curls he’d had the first few times Rowan had seen him.

“Wednesday through Sunday,” Jeremiah replies, gaze raking up and down Rowan’s body over the bar top with zero shame. “Why? Trouble in paradise?”

“What do you mean?”

The look Jeremiah gives him is somewhere between pitying and surprised, and Rowan is confused as hell.

“Ah. Listen, I’d love to, but I think we both know that isn’t going to end well.”

Rowan doesn’t have time to dwell on it before Mal’s suddenly at his side, one elbow planted solidly on the bar top.

“Yo,” Mal says to Rowan, barely glancing at him before he’s turning to Jeremiah and sliding an envelope to him.

“Hey, Jer. I snagged those Lizzo tickets for your sister,” he says. “Fuckin’ scalper wanted eight hundred bucks each.”

“Christ… you didn’t pay him that, did you?” Jeremiah replies, taking the envelope and stashing it beneath the counter.

“Hellno. Told him I’d fuck him up if he didn’t fork them over for a better price.”

Rowan snorts in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t doubt Mal would beat up some random guy for trying to rip him off.

Jeremiah lets out his own laugh, probably thinking the same thing Rowan did. “Thanks. Let me know how much I owe you and I’ll Venmo you.”

Mal waves him off. “Don’t worry ’bout it. Tell her to have a good time and don’t bring anyone who fuckin’ sucks.”

With a kiss to two of his fingers thrown in Mal’s direction, Jeremiah heads to the other end of the bar to help a throng of patrons who have emerged, some of whom Rowan recognizes from his little trip to the VoyEx corner.

“You ready, space case?” Rowan hears Mal say next to him, snapping him out of his daze.

Rowan turns to look at Mal straight-on, immediately feeling a heavy swoop of desire that he should have felt watching the men in the VoyEx corner. That he should have felt watching Jeremiah do his thing behind the bar.

“Yeah,” he replies, unable to keep the smile completely off his face. “Lead the way.”

THE SHIBARIclass is held in a large open room on the first floor that would look like a dance studio if it weren’t for the thick metal beams crisscrossing the ceiling and dozens of hooks and hardpoints attached to the walls. Rowan wonders what the hell else this room is used for, or if the club really does have an entire room dedicated to group rope bondage.

Already the room is filled with couples scattered around, talking quietly but animatedly. The diversity among them is surprising—not because Boston is particularly homogenous, but because places like this usuallyare. Though the group that Mal picked at the gangbang had been very diverse as well. Seeing how the instructor works with couples of all different shapes and sizes should make for an interesting class.

As they walk in and find an empty table near the front, Rowan can see that a few people eye Mal with surprise and Rowan with what looks like jealousy. It’s so easy to forget that Mal—Malcolm—is basically a celebrity here. A pulse of pride shoots through him, and he turns away from the gawking faces, even though a small part of him wants to stick his tongue out and chantnahhh nah-nah boo boo!

“You’ve done this before, right?” he asks Mal instead.

“Shibari? Yeah. Haven’t done any tying in a long time, though.”

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