Page 125 of The Menagerie

“What’d you think?” Mal asks him after a long moment of nothing but a soft stare at Rowan.

“About the scene?”

“Yeah.”

The question catches him off guard, something that seems to be happening a lot lately with Mal. It stings a bit too, Rowan’s mind wandering down a rabbit hole of questioning why Mal’s talking to him about this now and not at the diner like they’ve done every other time. After how much Mal’s already opened up to him tonight, Rowan would be nothing short of devastated if their trips to Sheila’s came to an abrupt end. Truthfully, he sees the diner dates as a part of his own aftercare as well as Mal’s.

“It was good.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, willing his mouth not to say it was worse—even if only a tiny bit—for having to use condoms. “Different” he settles on. And because he doesn’t want Mal to think the worst, he tacks on, “It was hot as hell seeing you like that.”

“Got pretty into it yourself,” Mal notes. “You ever done that before?”

“Not anything long like that. Just a bit with… y’know, hookups.”

He forces himself to meet Mal’s eyes after he says it, catching the tail end of a wince from him. The tiniest scrunch of his eyebrows, but it’s the only sign tonight that Mal has shown recognition of his other exploits. Or maybe it’s for some other reason entirely—Rowan’s having a hard fucking time reading Mal tonight.

“Was good. First time, most people don’t know how hard to go. Or how long.”

Rowan tosses him a smirk. “Thought you’d know by now that I’m not most people.”

The corners of Mal’s lips pull back into a closed-mouth smile. “Yeah. Figured you’d remind me, Narcissus.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Rowan laughs, leaning over and shoving at Mal’s knee. “I have a text from you from last week declaring yourself the World’s Best Bottom.”

“Don’t even tell me it ain’t true. People would commit crimes for my ass.”

Rowan doesn’t doubt it. Some days he feels like he’d commit a felony for the chance to see Mal outside of the club or diner. To have him visit him at work or go out for a drink outside their normal meetups.

But he rolls his eyes to keep the mood light. “Do you have aloe or something for your world-famous ass?”

“Why, you offerin’ to give me a rubdown?”

“Think I just did. I did bring some in my car, though, if you actually need any.”

Mal’s face softens for a beat before settling on something that looks a little too fond, making Rowan glad he mentioned it.

“I’m good. Got some at home.” He eyes Rowan’s hands where they’re splayed on his lap. “Need some for your hands?” he jokes.

Rowan laughs. “Nah. You’ve got a peach of an ass. Was like spanking a cushion.”

“Tch. You say that like it’s an insult, Campbell.”

“Just the opposite, Savaryn.”

THEY TALKfor nearly two hours, by Rowan’s estimate. About the scene, about the shibari class, about possibilities for future meetups. The occasional sprinkling of other nonsexual topics. It’s only when Rowan checks his phone to make sure they haven’t gone over their time limit that he sees they’ve only got twenty minutes till midnight.

“You still up for a diner run?” Rowan asks. “It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ starving. And I told Sheils I’d get you to eat something besides rabbit food one’a these days.”

There’s a flutter in Rowan’s chest at the thought of Mal mentioning him to Sheila, even as he says, “You’re one to talk, Bugs.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your little bunny teeth.” He bites his lip teasingly with his top teeth.

Mal kicks him off the bed, but before Rowan stumbles off to his feet, he catches him smiling, his front teeth digging into his bottom lip in a much more adorable and genuine way than Rowan had demonstrated.

“I saw that!” Rowan laughs.

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