Page 47 of The Menagerie

Under his hands, Rowan feels Mal clench his ass, the cheeks tightening and making Rowan lose his grip. A “Get on with it,” it seems. But Mal’s in no position to be making demands.

Smack!

Rowan slaps his right cheekhard, red immediately blooming across pale skin, a gasped “Mmm!” coming from the bed.

He spanks Mal again on the other cheek for good measure, feeling goose bumps pebble up as he smooths his hands over the heated skin. One of these days, now that he knows Mal’s penchant for spanking, he’s going to turn his entire backside red.

But now—now, he finally spreads Mal’s cheeks apart, revealing the tight pink hole that Rowan’s been dying to get inside of again.

He hears his own breath hitch, which means Mal probably does too, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Maybe cutting him a little slack for being eager.

“See somethin’ you like, Firecrotch?”

Maybe not.

To add insult to injury, Mal clenches again, hole winking, enticing him to touch. Enticing himin. Fuckingtauntinghim.

Rowan rises up, slips one hand under the back band of Mal’s jockstrap and the other under his chest, and hauls him up swiftly so his bare back slams into Rowan’s clothed chest. He drags his hand along Mal’s chest, trailing fingertips up the cords of Mal’s neck to grip his jaw and turn his head halfway toward himself. Lips and nose pressed against his ear, Rowan can smell his shampoo, something minty and sweet.

“Call me that again,” he says, tone measured, “and I’m gonna get that fleshlight and make you watch me get myself off while you sit here, hard ’n empty. Got it?”

For good measure he grinds his cock into Mal’s ass, letting him feel exactly what he would be missing out on.

He feels Mal nod, ear brushing his lips and sending a tingling sensation through Rowan.

“Good.”

With that, he shoves Mal back down on the bed and returns to kneeling behind him, snapping the bands of the jockstrap on his way down. And while he doesn’t love the idea of rewarding him for being a brat, he’s tired of waiting. He spreads Mal’s cheeks again and licks a hot, wet stripe from the edge of the jockstrap up to his hole, the clean musky scent spurring him on as much as Mal’s gasped, “Hah!”

He repeats the movement several more times, Mal’s noises fading to little more than contented sighs as he acclimates to the sensation. Which means Rowan needs to change it up.

He squeezes Mal’s asscheeks, pulling them apart as much as he can, pressing his face in between so he can suck on Mal’s hole. That gets Mal breathing heavy again. Beautiful. Rowan wants to keep him vocal, so he alternates between sucking, licking with the flat of his tongue, and tracing around it with the tip.

From past experience, he knows he’s capable of bringing someone to tears with his tongue, but tonight’s not the night for that quite yet.

Still, he can’t help wanting to tease Mal.

He pulls back to run the pad of his thumb over his hole, watching it quiver under his touch.

Suddenly he’s bombarded with images of Mal’s hole dripping with other men’s come as it had been last week. And fuck if it doesn’t turn him on knowing he’d been filled to the brim, fucked empty and filled again and again, loving every second of it.

He needs to get something inside him right now. Rowan pries apart his hole with his thumbs and delves his tongue inside, the phantom taste of come he imagines almost masking the taste of his own spit as he works his tongue deeper inside.

“Fuuu-uhhck!”

He wishes his tongue was longer so he could hit his prostate. But with how hard Mal’s clenching around him, practically cutting off his circulation, he doubts that he would be able to push in far enough even if his tongue was sufficiently long. He withdraws his tongue and licks over Mal’s hole, tiny kitten licks to give him a breather.

A breather that Mal evidently doesn’t want.

“Comeon,” he growls, shoving his hips back.

Smack!

Rowan’s hand connects with Mal’s asscheek in a sharp spank that echoes in the room.

“Hah!”

He runs his hand over the pink skin, warm to the touch. Feels the skin pebble up with goose bumps under his fingers.

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