Page 154 of The Menagerie
“Are you gonna do the scene with him whether I’m there or not?” Rowan asks, and he knows it’s pettiness and an unhealthy dose of spite that’s making him ask.
But, mercifully, “No.”
So Rowan’s at a crossroads again, isn’t he? Mal clearly wouldn’t have brought it up if some part of him didn’t want to do a scene with his former Dom again. But he also doesn’t want to do it without Rowan there. For… what? Exactly? To show Rowan what arealDom is like? It’s been a while since he had doubts about his ability to dominate Mal, but now the worry rears its ugly head and comes straight to the forefront of Rowan’s mind. He doesn’t know how long Mal was with this guy before Rowan, but he must have been good enough to warrant a scene when the guy happens to be in Boston for a weekend vacation or a business trip or whatever.
A big part of him wants to say no. Now that he feels like he and Mal have gotten to the point of being nearly exclusive, he’s finding it real hard to give that up. But that’s the thing that he has to keep telling himself: No matter how much he wishes they were, they’renotexclusive. Not yet. Maybe not ever if Rowan freaks out and gets all clingy and possessive like he’s wont to do.
So maybe this is the cost of getting there. Watching someone else take his place for one night. Who knows? It could even be hot as hell. He’s gotten off on thinking of the gangbang more times than he can count—seeing Mal with all those men. Maybe this won’t be any different.
But even as he tries to rationalize it, he knows that it’s different now.They’redifferent now. Their dynamic at the very least, if not their actual selves. Hell, Rowan knows he’s changed in countless ways since he started his arrangement with Mal.
What exactly those ways are, though, he’s not sure he could put into words. His life feels likemorenow that he has Mal in it. It’s in the little things, he guesses. A pep in his step on the way into work, a penchant for humming along to the schmoopy songs on the radio, a feeling of well-restedness the morning after waking from syrupy sweet dreams. Little things that could single-handedly cure his depression in one fell swoop if only he could grind them up and wash them down one at a time with a glass of water. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time, and for once, he’s not even waiting for the other shoe to drop.
At the very least, he can anticipate how good it’ll feel to show Mal what a kickass Dom he has become.
The Menagerie looms over him by the time he finally gives Mal an answer.
“Okay. Text me the details.”
He makes a break for his car with little more than a “See ya” and a wave goodbye.
THE SESSIONis booked for the Green Room. Rowan remembers enough from his English literature classes before he’d tested out of them that the irony of being in a room associated withenvyisn’t lost on him. This will be the first time he’s had to see Mal with someone else since the gangbang all those months ago. And while he knows that Mal has at least slept with other people—the condom incident still fresh in his mind, far away as it is—seeing it is a whole ’nother story.
The normal sashay in his step when he’s walking into the club is all but gone, replaced with a sluggishness that should have him turning tail and heading straight back home. If Camilla notices his drastically different demeanor when she checks him in—which she almost certainly does—she doesn’t mention it. She simply smiles and gives him directions to the correct room.
When he finally gets to the room, Mal’s already there with another man. Standing—fully clothed, thankfully—and talking. The guy’s not what Rowan expected, but he immediately dislikes him. The man is an inch or two taller than Mal, an inch or two shorter than Rowan. He’s dressed in black slacks and a blue button-up with a starched white collar. Black belt. Shiny black shoes. Rolex watch. Dark brown hair that’s starting to hit the salt-and-pepper stage putting him somewhere probably in his forties, maybe late thirties depending on his genetics.
He looks like a fucking accountant, Rowan thinks. Then he remembers thatMalis an accountant and throws that theory out the window. A CEO or something, then.
“Hey!” Mal says when he spots Rowan.
Though, Rowan guesses, he’sMalcolmnow.
“Hey,” Rowan says, closing and locking the door behind him.
“Rowan, this is Steven. Steven, Rowan.” Much more formal than when he’d introduced him to Amy at his birthday.
Steven. Probably spells it S-t-e-p-h-e-n like an asshole. Such an ordinary fucking name for an ordinary-looking guy. Definitely not someone who deserves someone extraordinary like Mal. Rowan shakes the guy’s hand and finds it too clammy and delicate for his liking. Like this guy’s never worked with his hands a day in his life, and it doesn’t bode well for his ability to be a good Dom. How he managed to bag Mal is a mystery.
“Nice to finally meet my replacement. I’d wondered how long it would take Malcolm to find someone new.”
His voice is a low purr that makes the hairs on the back of Rowan’s neck stand up.
“Not too long, it seems,” Rowan replies, though in truth he has no idea how long before the gangbang Steven left.
Steven snorts lightly through his nose and eyes Rowan up and down. Scrutinizing. Rowan feels his blood heat up in his veins, but returns the favor, keeping his face completely impassive.
“All right, put the rulers away,” Mal quips with a roll of his eyes.
And yeah, Rowan knows what Mal’s saying, but all he can think is that this guy better not have a bigger dick than he does.
“So how’s this going to work?” Rowan asks. “Do you have a plan for the scene?”
“Pretty standard stuff—gagging, wrist restraints, and spanking.”
“I assume we’re going to do it raw like usual?” Steven asks, a glint in his eye.
“Condoms,” Mal replies curtly.
