Page 14 of The Menagerie

But he remembers the first guy who’d wrenched Malcolm’s head back and gotten the loudest groan of the night so far, and Rowan wants to get him to top that. He tangles both hands in Malcolm’s hair and holds the other man’s head still while he thrusts his hips—gently at first, earning him a whimper. Good, but not enough.

When he feels Malcolm’s jaw slacken, he pistons his hips harder, faster, until he’s fucking Malcolm’s face like he’s been dying to see someone do for the past however long it’s been, balls slapping against his chin. It’s not as tight as when Malcolm was in control, but fuck, it’s almost better, the fast friction driving Rowan insane. But he wants more, and he’d bet his life that Malcolm does too. So he thrusts in a couple more inches of his length, instantly causing a gurgling cough to bubble up as his cock hits the back of Malcolm’s throat.

The other man pulls off with a pant, catching his breath as spit dribbles down his red lips and his chin. Rowan quirks an eyebrow at him in a silent question, and in response, Malcolm wraps his hands around the back of Rowan’s thighs and sucks him back down.

“Fuck, that’s good. Knew you could take more,” Rowan tells him.

The calls from the men around them agree.

“Yeah, that’s all he’s good for.”

“Fuckin’ slut. Look at him gag for it.”

“Wonder if his ass is as greedy as his mouth is.”

Rowan drives his hips forward, fucking into Malcolm’s mouth, the faintest scrape of teeth every few thrusts making Rowan inhale sharply and fuck him faster, gripping his hair in warning. And each time he pulls, he gets a louder moan from Malcolm. The sounds rattle against his cock like a fucking vibrator, and Rowan’s going to come. He’s gonna come too soon like a teenager for fuck’s sake, and as much as he wants to fill Malcolm’s hot mouth with his come or paint his pretty face, he needs to control himself.

“Enough,” Rowan says, grabbing the base of his cock and pulling out.

Malcolm’s eyebrows knit together, but he pulls off with a pant before looking up expectantly, chest heaving.

“Get on the bed.”

“’Bout fuckin’ time we got this show started,” someone calls out behind Rowan.

He couldn’t agree more.

Before Malcolm can even rise up to his knees fully, the strongman guy—Cupcake—hauls him up under his armpits like he’s not a fully grown man and dumps him on the bed. He lands on his knees, falling forward and catching himself on his hands with aslap! against the leather cushion before he faceplants onto it.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Malcolm says. “Someone better get somethin’ in my ass before I start to get bitchy.”

“What d’you meanstart?” Tats calls out, making a few of the other men laugh.

“Sounds like you’re volunteering for the class.”

“Stick that ass up for me and I just might.”

Malcolm makes atchsound, but arches his back and pushes his ass out to form a sinuous curve, the fabric of his briefs stretched tight across each cheek. And fuck, Rowan’s been trying to get a good look at his ass all night, only getting glimpses of it from the side while he was picking people or when he was kneeling and blowing them.

But God if it isn’t perfect, even clothed. Muscular with a touch of softness, like the rest of him. And when Tats slaps one cheek and pulls the fabric halfway down the back of his thighs, it’s even better, smooth and round with dimples on his lower back and on the sides of each cheek.

Cupcake climbs on the bed in front of Malcolm and slaps his cheek with his cock once, twice, until Malcolm opens and sucks him down. The two Tweedles climb on either side of him, jerking off until Malcolm switches his attention to each of them in turn, supporting himself on one arm so he can stroke one of them while he blows another. His coordination is unreal; Rowan doesn’t think evenhecould navigate so much dick. The rest of the men circle around the bed, half watching in front and half in back of Malcolm, all jerking off, some making out with one another. It’s hot, but Rowan really doesn’t give a fuck about any except one.

His attention snaps back to where Tats is now digging his fingers into Malcolm’s ass, whose skin turns white as Tats spreads his cheeks. Rowan has to get closer. He jumps on the bed next to Tats in time to see him run the pad of his thumb over Malcolm’s pink hole, and fuck, it’s so smooth—the faintest bit of peach fuzz on his ass. He’s glad it doesn’t look like he waxes or shaves, though, because Rowan’s always been more attracted to guys with body hair.

“Beautiful,” Tats says, stroking over Malcolm’s hole with his fingers.

Rowan watches it twitch at the contact, feeling his own dick twitch at the sight. He pulls Malcolm’s briefs the rest of the way down, tugging at the fabric when they reach his knees to pull them off completely and fling them to the floor.

“Lick him,” Rowan says. He’d much rather do it himself, but he can be patient.

Tats does as instructed, tongue shooting out to lave over Malcolm’s hole in one long stripe.

“Mmf!” The whine must come from Malcolm, but withtwodicks in his mouth, it’s muffled.

“No talking with your mouth full,” someone says from the front of the bed.

“Fuck you, Tweedle Dum,” Malcolm answers, voice hoarse. “Wouldn’t hafta if you’d actually use that dick of your—hnnnn!”

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