Page 144 of The Menagerie

“Good.”

As soon as Rowan works open Mal’s button and zipper, he spins him in place, pressing his chest against the stall door and hearing it rattle on flimsy hinges.

“Unh….”

Fingers raking against Mal’s lower back, Rowan shoves his jeans down over his ass, revealing lacy white panties that stretch tight across his cheeks.

“Fuck…,” Rowan whispers, cupping Mal’s ass in his hands and watching the delicate holes in the fabric spread under his palms. “These are new, huh?”

“Bought ’em the other day.”

“Mm… thought it was your birthday, not mine.”

Mal’s chuckle turns into a moan as Rowan drags his hands around the front, feeling his hard cock beneath the panties.

“Felt you earlier, when we were dancing….”

A press, a drag, a moan, and Mal hitches his hips forward into Rowan’s touch.

“Were so fuckin’ hard, just from a little grinding.”

Rowan slips one hand under Mal’s panties, feeling the heat of his bare skin and the softness of his neatly-trimmed pubes.

“Was that ’cause of me, or would you have gotten that turned on with anyone?” Rowan asks.

“Nng….” Mal’s chin dips, the crown of his headthunking against the cubicle door.

“Tell me, Mal.”

With a few pumps of Mal’s cock, Rowan wrings the answer out of him.

“You…,” he breathes. “Fuck, get me goin’ like nothin’ else.”

“Thought so.”

Spurred on by the revelation, Rowan shoves Mal’s panties down to join his pants where they’ve crumpled to the floor.

The scent of strawberries fills Rowan’s nose, his mouth watering as he takes in the plug nestled between Mal’s asscheeks.

“Planned this, huh?”

It’s phrased as a question, but Mal doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to really. The panties and the plug and the fuckingstrawberry lubespeak volumes on their own. And normally Rowan would make Mal answer him, but this is a far cry from their normal scenes.

He tugs the plug out slowly and tosses it on the pooled panties at Mal’s feet, the black silicone contrasting with the white lace. Rowan’s cock aches as he finally frees himself, spreading Mal’s asscheeks and rutting against his slick hole.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet…,” he notes, kneading Mal’s cheeks while his cockhead catches on the rim. “Can picture you fucking yourself open, wishing it was me.”

Two fingers slip inside, drawing a punched-out breath from Mal. The heat between his legs is tantalizing, beckoning Rowan to slip his cock between his thighs and rut against the underside of Mal’s own hard cock as he opens him with his fingers.

“Fuck…,” Mal groans, reaching back to paw at Rowan’s side.

Right then the bathroom door swings open, the thumping music and din of voices outside crescendoing to a deafening volume, then quickly fading back to a dull hum.

Mal’s fingers flex white where they’re pressed against the stall door. Even with the hitch in his breath, the shifting of his ass back against Rowan’s cock is anything but subtle. Rowan takes it as his cue to slide into Mal to the hilt, slapping a hand around his mouth to stifle the moan he knows is coming. He feels Mal’s lips vibrate against his fingertips.

The sounds of the unknown man a few feet away dissolve into nothing as he lets Mal adjust to his cock. Only for a moment until he feels him clenching around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth. He fucks into him deep, with one hand still covering his mouth and the other bruising his hip. And when he pulls out fully, then thrusts back in with enough force to make the door hinges rattle, Mal whimpers loud enough to be heard over the sound of running water in the background.

“Not a fuckin’ word, Mal,” Rowan whispers in his ear, grinding into him. “Unless you want the rest of the club to know what a slut you are for my cock.”

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