Page 113 of The Menagerie

“Down to the left. I remember that part.”

“’S a lotta steps, but it makes sense when you do it a few times. Make sure you put tension on the tail before you wrap it around the center line… that’s good.”

It’s endlessly impressive that Mal knows exactly what Rowan’s doing by the feel of the rope surrounding him alone. And while Rowan knows how to finish the knot without any further help from Mal, he lets him talk him the rest of the way through.

As he pulls the tail of the rope through the strands across Mal’s back, it’s impossible to avoid his knuckles brushing down the dip in his spine, the spot Rowan knows is ultrasensitive. Even with the fabric of his shirt in between, Mal shudders gently.

“Feel good?” Rowan teases, already knowing the answer by the dip of Mal’s head.

The breathiness of his snappy reply betrays him. “Fuck off.”

“Could always head upstairs, catch the next class.”

Another trail down his spine, this time more deliberate.

“Gonna have to if you keep doin’ that….”

“Oh yeah?” Rowan draws the rope back across Mal’s front, the bulge in his sweats pulling Rowan’s gaze.

“Such a fuckin’ tease, Red.”

If it weren’t for the fact that they’d probably get kicked out regardless of Mal’s friendship with Camilla, and for the fact that this is outside their normal scenes—the nickname a stark reminder of that—Rowan would be tempted to see how worked up he could get Mal before the rig is even finished. Instead he glances up to the front, finding that Camilla already has both of Rory’s underarms secured with two lines of rope.

As if sensing his internal panic, Mal guides him through the steps to catch up. Rowan can’t help but wonder if Mal has done this exact rig before or if he’sthatfamiliar with this type of rig. The harness starts to take shape, and it sends a rush straight to Rowan’s groin. He knows by the smirk Mal gives him that he’s noticed the effect the whole process is having on him. If Mal weren’t in the same boat, he might be embarrassed.

Rowan can feel the heat of Mal’s body and the goose bumps that pop up under each piece of exposed skin he touches. If only he could run his fingertips over Mal’s skin and read him like braille, discern every thought and feeling from just his body’s subconscious reactions.

Or maybe he doesn’t even need it. Mal’s chin dips down nearly to his chest, a stillness settling over him as his eyes start to glaze over in the way Rowan’s come to know means Mal is approaching that blissed-out state that all Doms strive for. He won’t get there, not by a long shot, but it makes Rowan preen like a peacock nonetheless.

“For the front,” Camilla says, “the pattern is up to you and your partner. I’ll show the plain version first, with no rope between the breasts, then a second version that is more ornate. For the more advanced version, we’ll be adding a fifteen-foot rope extension.”

“Which one do you wanna do?” Rowan asks.

“Up to you,” Mal replies, snapping out of the daze he’d started to fall into with several quick blinks.

“Hm….” Rowan experimentally places the tail of the rope between Mal’s pecs, immediately liking the sight even with his shirt in the way. “Kinda want to show off your tits more.”

“Pft. Figured you were more of an ass man, Paul Hollywood.”

He laughs at the callback to their texts earlier in the week, even as he says in complete sincerity, “I’m an everything man when it comes to you.”

His fingers are still on the rope held loosely against Mal’s chest. For a second, their eyes meet, and instead of the scoff or dismissal Rowan expects, Mal’s lips pull back into a pleased smile.

After attaching another fifteen-foot rope with a box tie, he weaves the strands between Mal’s pecs and starts interlacing them to form a braided pattern.

“What do you get out of this?” Rowan asks in a low voice.

For a second, Mal doesn’t answer. But when Rowan looks up to make sure he heard him, Mal’s eyes are lidded but still manage to bore a hole straight into Rowan’s own. It reminds him of the first time they locked eyes at the gangbang all those weeks ago. Intense. Electric.

“Feels secure,” Mal says. After a few seconds, he tacks on, “Safe.”

“Kind of like a baby being swaddled?”

“If I could smack you for that right now, I would, Firecrotch. But fuckin’…yeah, I guess. Don’t gotta worry about anything.”

Rowan bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at Mal’s outburst. “That’s pretty much what you said about being a sub. They kinda go hand in hand, huh?”

“Mmm.” There’s a short pause before he asks, “You likin’ this so far?”

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