Page 121 of The Menagerie

“Clean it up.”

“Clean… wh—”

“Me. Don’t be stupid.”

He shoves Mal’s face down to his own lap like a dog, his hot breath warming the precome on Rowan’s thigh. But it’s with little kitten licks that Mal laps up his own mess from Rowan’s leg, his tongue smooth and wet and making more of a mess than was even there to begin with.

“All of it, or I promise you, the next time my hand touches your ass, you won’t enjoy it.”

There’s a soft mewl followed by two more licks to the inside of his thigh that feel like liquid fire, and Rowan’s thigh is clean of every trace of precome.

“Good.” He drags Mal off by his hair, not satisfied with having him stop there. He rolls his tongue and spits loudly on his own thigh, the pearly white fluid a poor stand-in for what Rowan would rather see him lick. “Keep going.”

Mal’s eyes flick to Rowan’s, pupils blown, mouth slack. There’s a hesitation there that Rowan doesn’t like.

“Give me a color, Mal.”

His response is instant despite his raspy voice. “Green….”

“The fuck are you waiting for, then?”

A sharp smack against Mal’s cheek has the other man yelping and instantly dipping his head, pink tongue darting out to catch the trail of spit trickling down the outside of Rowan’s thigh. It tickles, but Rowan tightens his quads to keep from quivering. The sight of Mal cleaning Rowan’s own spit off his thigh is enough to have his already hard cock straining in his briefs.

Pinching Mal’s jaw between his fingers, he forces him to look up. “Let me see.”

Mal’s mouth dips open, tongue pink and glistening with his own precome and Rowan’s spit.

“Fuckin’ filthy. You love this shit, huh?”

As best he can with his face in a vise between Rowan’s fingers, Mal nods.

Smack!

Rowan cracks his hand across Mal’s cheek, not nearly as hard as he’d been on his ass, but enough to have the other man gasping aloud.

“Words, Mal. Not gonna tell you again.”

“Yes….” It comes out a garbled whisper of a thing.

“Yes,what? Should know by now that one-word answers aren’t good enough.”

“Love it. ’M so fuckin’ hard,” he groans, hitching his hips forward and rutting his cock against Rowan’s thigh, another dribble of precome leaving a pearly streak.

Rowantsks, collecting the tiny drop of fluid with two fingers and shoving them into Mal’s mouth. Mal’s surprised “Mmf!” is almost as satisfying as the hot tongue that curls around his fingers and sucks the droplet off.

“Filthy…,” Rowan comments, but it comes out as praise.

Relying solely on the strength of his arms in this position, he grabs Mal’s hips and shifts him away from Rowan’s lap, ass up and face down.

Rowan wastes no time in reaching for Mal’s plug and tugging gently. But Mal clenches around it, keeping it suctioned inside him.

Smack!

“You want me to fuck you or not?” Rowan scolds him, punctuating his question with another stinging spank. “’Cause I’m good just jerking off.”

“Bet you are,” Mal mumbles, evidently coming back to his snarkiness after the intensity of the last hour.

Rowan flicks the plug before giving it another tug. It doesn’t budge around Mal’s walls.

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