Page 20 of The Menagerie

In a half dozen more tight strokes, he groans and empties himself over Malcolm’s pristine face, thick and so much that it’s really a shame he wasn’t better at fucking, because it’s undeniably hot. His come coats Malcolm’s cheeks and chin and lips, dribbling down his neck and pooling in the hollow of his throat as he lets out a keening whine, eyes rolling back in his head.

One by one, everyone who didn’t come earlier climbs on the bed and unloads on every part of Malcolm’s flushed body, his neck and chest and cock, covering his ink in ribbons of white that melt on his heated skin and drip onto the leather underneath him. And God, he’s gorgeous. Moaning each and every time someone releases on him. Moaning louder when Rowan fucks into him deep and squeezes his shaking thighs against his chest.

The quivering starts in his thighs and radiates out to the rest of him, his lower back and his core and his arms all vibrating violently, ass clenching furiously around Rowan’s cock. He has to be close. It’s a fucking wonder he hasn’t come already tonight, but Rowan wants to be the first to get him there. So he drops Malcolm’s legs down, Malcolm instantly wrapping them around Rowan’s waist as Rowan lowers his ass to the edge of the bed, and hoists him up by the back of his neck so they’re mere inches apart.

The angle is awkward—he has to squat down a bit to fuck him like this, thighs burning—but the heat from Malcolm’s body and the feeling of him sucking Rowan in deeper is worth it.

Rowan pulls him in close, wipes the residual come from his lips and chin with the hand not wrapped around the back of his neck.

“Show me,” he whispers.

This time Malcolm’s lips part immediately, giving Rowan a perfect view of the frothy spit filling his mouth. He could have swallowed Rowan’s spit. Easily. Could have generated his own to replace Rowan’s and he’d be none the wiser, but Rowan knows in his gut Malcolm didn’t. Knows that what he’s seeing is his own spit mixed with Malcolm’s, and fuck if that doesn’t almost make him come on the spot.

“Good. Swallow it.”

With his mouth open, Malcolm’s tongue flattens against the roof of his mouth, and with a quick bob of his Adam’s apple, his mouth is empty. But better than that is the glazed-over look in his eyes. Rowan knows that look. Didn’t think he’d get to see it tonight, not really, because he’s been told that it’s hard to slip into sub mode with so many people around, so much distraction, but holy shit does it make Rowan impossibly harder.

Fuck, he thinks.This guy’s gonna be the death of me.

He wraps a hand around Malcolm’s cock and quickens his hips, wanting to reward him for being so fucking filthy. Malcolm pants in response.

“Now come for me.”

“Hnnnnng!”

The moan ripped from Malcolm’s throat is hoarse and raw and so loud Rowan’s surprised all the glass toy cabinets haven’t shattered around them. It drowns out every single other sound in the room, everyone else’s groans and grunts and leers and jerking, and Rowan wants to bottle it up and save it for whenever he needs a reason to get hard at a moment’s notice.

Malcolm’s ass clenches wildly, and his eyebrows knit together. As if in slow motion, his breath leaves him in a rush and his cock erupts in Rowan’s hand, coating his fingers with hot come. Rowan strokes him through it, senses finally returning to normal after nearly blacking out everything around him to focus entirely on the man beneath him.

He’s only human, and Rowan can’t hold back any longer.

The slowly building pool of heat in his belly turns into an inferno as he finally focuses on taking his own pleasure, using Malcolm exactly how he so obviously wants to be used. He pistons into him, body in overdrive, muscles aching. As soon as he feels his balls tighten, he forces himself to pull out and fist his cock, and in two, three, five tugs his vision whites out and he’s coating Malcolm’s vine-covered hips in come with a deep satisfied groan.

Malcolm drops to the bed, boneless, as soon as Rowan releases the back of his neck to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. And fuck, he’s beautiful, sprawled on the bed without a care and dripping come and sweat and fuckingglisteningunder the overhead lights like he’s made of goddamn Swarovski crystals.

He could spend the rest of the night admiring him, but the night’s not over.

“I think it’s time to see how much of a cock slut he really is,” Tats says.

As if all of that hadn’t already proved it a thousand times over.

Rowan would say they should take a breather, give him a break, but Malcolm sits up in one fluid motion, rolls onto his knees and spreads his asscheeks apart, giving Rowan a perfect view of the hole he’d ruined and the come from everyone else still dripping out.

Fuck.

“Well?” he asks. “Who’s gonna be the first to double dip?”

“Shit, look, he’s practically gaping already,” someone behind Rowan calls.

“Nah, but he will be soon,” someone else laughs.

“I want him first,” Leg Day says.

“Me too,” the Japanese Tweedle adds. He lays down on the bed on his back, tugging Malcolm with him until he straddles Tweedle’s hips. Without prompting, he sinks down onto the man’s cock with a contented sigh, hips rocking in a steady rhythm as he fucks himself.

It’s as captivating a sight as Rowan thought it might be, even at a leisurely pace. His eyes rove over every inch of Malcolm, biceps and thighs flexing, abs rolling, head lolling back, cock starting to perk up again after only a few minutes of being soft. And when Leg Day sidles up behind him and presses in two lubed fingers alongside Tweedle’s cock, Malcolm’s breath leaves him in a rush.

“Fuuuck yeah, keep goin’.”

---