Page 192 of The Menagerie

A few sessions with Rowan had changed Mal’s initial stance on vibrators. Now he’s whimpering freely, taking everything that Rowan’s giving him and all but begging for more.

Rowan works the masturbator back over Mal’s cock, setting up a languid pace. In no time, Mal’s shaking again, body a trembling mess as Rowan speeds up the masturbator. His cockhead pokes out through the opening with each pump, slick and pink and making Rowan’s mouth water with the need to taste.

He trails the vibrator across Mal’s perineum, not quite touching his hole but practically feeling it clench in anticipation.

Mal nearly comes again when Rowan places the vibrator under the tip of Mal’s cock, pumping away with the masturbator at the same time. But he doesn’t because he’s so good for him. Rowan can tell how badly he wants to come—muscles taut and quivering, breath heaving with every touch of the vibrator and every pump of the masturbator.

He brings him to the edge three more times, pulling away when he hears the telltale gasping moan that signals that Mal’s about to come.

“That’s it, baby. I want one more.”

“Can’t, Rowan…,” Mal whispers.

“I know you can. One more.”

“Nnng….”

Rowan cranks the speed of the vibrator and prostate massager up as high as they’ll go, the sound audible even over Mal’s ragged breaths and the slick sounds of men jerking off behind them. He strokes the masturbator furiously, vibrator trailing around his cockhead and over his balls and back to his hole.

Mal’s hoarse moan rises in a crescendo that spikes Rowan’s heart rate through the roof.

“Fu-fuck…!”

“Don’t come,” Rowan warns.

“Please…,” Mal begs.

“I saidno. Don’t disappoint me.”

Rowan works him faster, until the point where it looks like Mal might actually combust if he’s teased any more. He can see his fingers and toes curl in his peripheral vision, and he finally lets up as Mal’s stomach clenches violently.

“Fuuuuck!”

“That’s it. So fuckin’ perfect.”

He withdraws and turns off all the toys and dumps them on the table. Rowan cups Mal’s chin in his hand, turning his face toward him, whispering low in his ear.

“Can I kiss you in front of them? Show them how good you are for me? That you’re mine?”

They’d already talked about it, but—

“Y-yeah,” Mal breathes.

And Rowan slots his mouth over Mal’s, slipping his tongue inside in a filthy, sensual kiss that makes him throb and Mal’s knees buckle. Rowan grips under his ass, supporting his weight as he takes him apart with his lips and tongue. There’s a groan somewhere behind them and a gasp or two, but Rowan ignores everything but the feeling of Mal’s talented lips on his own, giving as good as he gets.

When they part, a thin trail of spit connects their lips, Mal’s jaw slack and his eyes hazy and lidded. Rowan wipes the spit away with his thumb, running it along Mal’s lower lip and feeling Mal shudder slightly beneath him.

“So good for me, Mal,” Rowan tells him in a low voice that only he can hear.

Mal gives another full-body shudder at the use of his name. Here, he’s used to being Malcolm. He’s been going by his full name here since he joined almost eight years ago, and earned a lucrative reputation under it. Rowan doesn’t care what other people call him. Because with Rowan, he’s always beenMal. Something that none of these assholes watching him and getting off to him will ever have.

But at the same time, he loves showing Mal off. Loves showing how fucking good and gorgeous his boyfriend is, even if no one here knows that they’re anything beyond Dom and sub to one another. He knows that he’s the one going home to Mal nearly every night. He’s the one who gets all sides of Mal, beyond this hypersexual, physical side. He gets the quiet moments, the funny moments, the joyful and sad moments alike. He getsallof Mal, and he wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Fuck. He needs him, and hewants him, so badly it makes his chest ache.

Rowan bends to swiftly uncuff Mal’s ankles. His own cock is so fucking hard and straining against his jeans that he feels like he might actually explode if he doesn’t get inside Mal right now.

He rips his shirt off, tossing it to the side before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out through the slit in his briefs. With a cursory slicking of lube, he grips Mal by the underside of his asscheeks, hoisting him into the air.

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