Page 15 of The Menagerie

Rowan can’t see, but he assumes some combination of a dick being shoved down Malcolm’s throat and Tats burying his face between his cheeks has something to do with the cut-off goading.

Rowan lies on his side to finally get a good look at Malcolm’s cock, hard and already leaking precome. He doesn’t wanna call itcute, because he’s pretty sure Malcolm would deck him if he did. It’s on the smaller side of average, but it’sthick, and shit, he needs to taste it.

“Hey, lemme get under him,” Rowan says to Tats.

“I want to taste his ass,” The Rock look-alike says right after.

Tats pulls off to let Rowan slide underneath Malcolm’s hips. It’s an awkward position with Malcolm’s short legs, but he makes it work.

“You good if I straddle you, man?” The Rock asks Rowan.

“Yeah.”

The older man takes the okay and straddles Rowan around his waist, thick thighs encompassing him and hard cock draped over Rowan’s stomach. A bolt of heat shoots through him at being surrounded like this, reminding him that soon he’s likely going to be buried inside Malcolm at the same time as someone else. He can’t wait.

Craning his neck, he finally gets a good look at Malcolm’s hip tattoos—vining ivy with thorns on either side of his sculpted V. And the artwork is beautiful, but he’s much more interested in his cock. He sucks the tip into his mouth and gets a startled jerk of Malcolm’s hips in response, one hand resting on Malcolm’s thigh to stop him from fucking into his mouth any farther. With his free hand, he cups Malcolm’s balls, rolling them in his palm as a dribble of precome seeps out onto his tongue.

It’s sweet, like he’s been chugging pineapple juice all week or something. Rowan wouldn’t put it past him for something like this. He sucks harder. By now the whimpers are flowing freely from above him, faintly audible over the groans and slick sounds of people jerking off around them.

Rowan feels the bed dip as the men in front of Malcolm change places, but he can’t tell who joins.

“Someone get some lube,” The Rock says.

Rowan takes that as his cue to reach under and tap him on the thigh so he can shimmy out from underneath. Because as much as he’d like to keep sucking Malcolm’s dick until he’s squirming above him, there’s no way he’s going to miss something entering his ass for the first time.

In the few seconds it takes him to switch from lying to kneeling beside him, the Japanese guy—Tweedle Dee? Dum? Rowan has no clue—has taken up position behind Malcolm, bottle of lube in hand. He squirts some onto his palm, warming it between his hands briefly before unceremoniously slathering it over Malcolm’s hole.

“Hurry the fuck up and get in me,” Malcolm barks.

“So impatient,” the man responds, sinking in one long, slim finger. “What, is four hours not enough time for you to spend getting fucked that you’ve gotta rush through it?”

“Ah! Don’t see anyone here rushin’shit.”

“Hm. How’s this for rushing?”

He sinks in two more fingers, and Malcolm’s hole swallows them like it’s nothing. He must have prepped beforehand, at least somewhat, because someone taking three fingers with only a bit of rimming beforehand can be a pretty tall order unless they get fucked constantly.

Oh, but that’s a nice thought. Malcolm being ready to get fucked at a moment’s notice. Fucked by Rowan specifically. He files the image away for later.

“Better,” Malcolm replies. “But not enough by a long shot.”

Rowan’s torn between wanting to hear every noise he makes and wanting him to shut the hell up and stop being a greedy brat and take what everyone here wants to give him. He settles on the latter. Malcolm is starting to say something else while he’s being fingered open when Rowan brings his hand up and slapshim hard on his left asscheek, the flesh warm under his hand.

“Fuck!” Malcolm cries out.

“Unless you wanna get split in half, you’ll fuckin’ wait till we get you ready,” Rowan tells him.

“Fuckin’—”

Slap!

“—nnnng!”

Rowan smooths his hand over the reddening skin, feels the goose bumps pebble up underneath his fingers and the not-so-subtle hitching of Malcolm’s hips back against his touch. Looking for more. And that tiny movement is something Rowan’s going to be thinking about for the rest of his life.

He slides his hand down Malcolm’s crack and presses his middle finger in alongside the other man’s three fingers, drawing a gasp from Malcolm. And it’stightas he tugs on the rim, definitely not stretched enough to take Rowan’s cock right now, but some of the others? Absolutely.

At Malcolm’s demand for “More, fuck,”Rowan sinks in his ring finger, opening him up along with the other man, who spits into his open hole between their fingers, slicking the way as they stretch him.

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