Page 79 of The Menagerie

A muffled cough, then—there.

The first tear, a perfect fat drop pooling at the inner corner of his left eye. It catches the light as it rolls over the lower lid and runs down Mal’s flushed cheek, leaving a pearlescent streak in its wake before it disappears beneath his chin. The next drop pools and falls quickly, rolling off Mal’s sharp nose and landing in Rowan’s pubic hair—mixing with Mal’s spit and Rowan’s sweat.

It’s filthy, and Rowan’s so fucking hard and about to burst with the need to come.

“Look at me,” he says, voice a rasped whisper.

Mal pulls back off his cock an inch or two to crane his neck up enough for his golden eyes to lock onto Rowan’s, and Rowan feels the breath leave his lungs in a swiftwhooshthat has him inhaling sharply.

And fuck, he’s beautiful,like Rowan knew he would be. Eyes wet and shining and starting to turn red around the rims, but pupils still blown wide—a testament to how turned on he is. How much he loves this.Perfect.

“There you go,” Rowan tells him, unable to hide the reverence in his voice. Unwilling too. “Knew you’d look fucking perfect crying on my cock.”

As the tears form and spill, form and spill, Rowan stills Mal with a hand in his hair. With the other, he swipes at the tracks running down his cheeks, gathering the remnants of the liquid on his thumb and pushing it into Mal’s mouth alongside his cock. Rowan feels more than hears the other man’s moan—the vibrations traveling from his cock to his hips and making him cant up into Mal’s talented mouth, slick with spit from laving his tongue over Rowan’s thumb like it’s a fucking lollipop.

Rowan can’t settle for imagining the taste. Pulling his thumb back out, he wipes again at Mal’s cheek, replacing the tears with Mal’s spit. He sucks his own thumb into his mouth, the saltiness of Mal’s tears and his own precome mingling into a bitter taste that hits deep in Rowan’s core.

The reaction from Mal is instant, ragged breaths pattering against Rowan’s pelvis and eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he resumes sucking Rowan with a newfound fervor.

Rowan doesn’t know exactly what about the gesture got Mal’s blood pumping—having Rowan’s fingers in his mouth or swapping spit or simply the fact that Rowan’s managed to make him cry after only two sessions—but hell if he isn’t gonna do it as often as possible.

Mal lets out a strangled whimper as Rowan thrusts up into his mouth, cock once again hitting the back of his throat. Balls tightening, belly clenching, thighs shaking on either side of Mal’s face as he works furiously to bring Rowan off, and in no time—

“Fuuuck, that’s it. Gonna….”

The only acknowledgment Mal can give him is a soft “Mmm” as his eyes roll back then close tight, the remainder of the tears that have formed spilling over in a pretty cascade, and…

That does it.

Rowan’s hips jerk as he erupts into Mal’s mouth, unsure if his own groan or Mal’s is louder.

Gripping the back of Mal’s head, he keeps him there, jacking his hips to get deeper inside, keep feeling that warmth and that suction that’s driven him wild from the start.

And Mal moans right on through it, keeping his eyes open and lasered onto Rowan’s until he swallows, the back of his throat rippling around Rowan’s cock.

Rowan’s breath leaves him in a rush as his body stops vibrating and he comes down from the high of his orgasm as Mal sucks him clean. Cock finally softening, he pulls out of Mal’s mouth, a trail of spit still connecting the tip with Mal’s slick lower lip that nearly makes Rowan get hard all over again. The way he gets Rowan going isinsane.

Rowan sinks down onto his knees, face-to-face with the flushed man as he runs a hand through Mal’s sweaty hair. Tilts his head up. Locks eyes with him and sees the blown pupils start to shrink, hazy look slowly dissolving to clear caramel-gold.

And he wants to kiss him.

Hecan’t; he knows that. But fuck, Rowan’s gotta be a bit of a masochist, because having to deny himself that is easily the hardest thing he’s done, especially when Mal’s lips are pink and slick and parted justso.

“Okay?” Rowan asks.

Mal nods, blinking slowly and rolling his shoulders.

And Mal’s still hard.

“You want the cuffs off, or do you want me to get you off again?”

“Cuffs,” Mal tells him, voice low.

Shuffling behind him, Rowan quickly unclasps the latch between the cuffs, freeing Mal’s hands. One at a time, he raises Mal’s hands and removes the cuffs, the fur slightly damp from the thin sheen of sweat that’s accrued from their session.

Once Mal is free, he rolls his wrists and shoulders, tilts his neck from side to side. Rowan holds the back of his elbow and helps him to his feet, guides him to the bed and lets him get comfortable on his back before he slicks his hand and brings Mal off again in smooth, slow jerks.

When he’s panting and sated, Rowan helps him come down.

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