Page 153 of The Menagerie

“Fuckin’perfect, Mal, God….”

And Rowan’s right there with him, emptying inside Mal, body bowstring taut as he milks his release. The pleasure courses through him in waves, in time with the rhythmic pulsing of Mal’s walls around him, perfectly in sync.

He pulls out slowly, watching in wonder as Mal’s open hole winks at him and a dribble of Rowan’s own come trickles out and drips onto the bench below.

Fuck. It’s almost enough to get him hard again. If there’s anyone able to make Rowan’s body defy biology, it’s definitely Mal.

Rowan grabs a damp cloth from the supply table and gingerly wipes the come and lube from between Mal’s cheeks and thighs and the come from his cock where it’s softening among his pubes. Something Mal’s only really allowed him to do the past two months or so, after their more intense scenes, and Rowan takes the job and the gesture seriously, wiping thoroughly yet gently.

Rowan unties Mal like he’s unwrapping a gift. Gingerly and with a precision that frees him quickly and efficiently. He flings each coil of rope over the bench, not bothering to wind it yet as he guides Mal to standing, then leads him to the bed. It’s clear his legs are shaky from disuse, but he manages to stay upright and lies flat on his back on the leather bed.

The rope indentations zigzag along Mal’s legs and arms, sweet pink to violent red from how hard he’d strained against the binds in some areas. Rowan rubs them gently, hands massaging Mal’s skin to stimulate the blood flow. Pressing, pulling, sweeping, up and down and across. As he works him over, Mal’s head dips softly back to the bed, eyes lightly closed.

“Feels okay?”

“Mmm. Yeah…. ’S good.”

Rowan shifts to his legs, stroking his shins and his knees and his thighs, past his groin and up to his hips, then all the way back down to complete the circuit.

By the time Mal’s breath has evened out and his skin has mostly returned to its normal color, Rowan’s got a smile on his face that won’t go away.

ROWAN ISstill coasting on the high of their session on the walk back from Sheila’s diner. He’s gonna tell him. The marquee lights of the club are visible over the horizon, half a mile away, give or take. Plenty of time for a heart-to-heart. A confession and a plea.

“So…,” Mal starts before Rowan can even open his mouth.

Rowan’s pulse races, body a live wire and suddenly too alert for the quiet night.

But….

“My old Dom’s gonna be back in town next week.”

There’s that chill in the air again, the first week of September signaling the end of summer, and it passes straight through Rowan’s body like a ghost.

“Yeah?” Rowan asks, because what else is he supposed to do with that information?

“Said he wanted to do a scene together.”

Rowan’s feet don’t stop moving, but he’s pretty sure his heart does.

With a shuddering breath, he feigns nonchalance. “Okay? Go for it. You know you don’t need to ask me, Mal.”

Bitterness laces his tone; he knows it does, but it can’t be helped. Not when he was seconds away from telling Mal that he wants to be more.

“I want you to be there. If you’re cool with it.”

Oh.

“To… watch? Or join in?”

“Prob’ly just watch. He’s not big on sharing, but he’s a big exhibitionist.”

Last Rowan checked, you can’tsharesomething that doesn’t belong to you in the first place. He chances a glance over at Mal, and he can faintly see the marks on his wrists and forearms from the rope.

Rowan lets himself be silent until they get to the next block. It’s fucking weird hearing Mal talk about his old Dom. Rowan’s predecessor. It feels like asking if your new boyfriend is cool with watching you sleep with your ex. And yeah, whatever. They don’t have those titles for each other. Their arrangement still lets them sleep with other people, if they want. But the thing is, Rowanhasn’twanted to in a long time. And he thought that Mal was finally on the same page as him with that.

But it seems like Mal had his own agenda for their walk back tonight. Maybe this whole time Rowan’s only been seeing what he wants to see. Maybe he’s been interpreting Mal’s actions the past few months as intimate when they should have been classified as something else. Something more platonic.

He thought they had something, is what it boils down to. And now he feels a lot like an idiot for thinking that.

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