Page 186 of The Menagerie
Mal’s breathing slowly returns to normal, along with his pale complexion. Rowan watches the rise and fall of his chest, focusing on the solid lines of his tattoos with each exhale and on his musculature with each inhale. In profile, he’s beautiful. All sharp nose and delicate eyelashes and high cheekbones and mussed hair with traces of sweat drying at his temples.
They lie there in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at each other. Rowan continues his touches along Mal’s chest and arms and neck if for no other reason than he wants to touch him. Wants to still be connected to him in some way. The only sound in the room is the gentle, soothing pitter-patter of rain hitting the windows outside, and Rowan thinks he hasn’t ever been this content in his entire life.
“Think I wanna change my safewords,” Mal says after a long few minutes of nothing but slow and steady breaths.
“Yeah?” Rowan replies, curious.
“Yeah. Use actual words instead’a colors.”
The admission surprises him. Rowan remembers something about Mal saying he didn’t need to think about his old math teacher when he was in bed, which is why he uses colors in the first place.
“How come?”
Mal hesitates, rubs at his eyebrow with his index finger before meeting Rowan’s eyes. He rises up on one elbow, partially leaning over Rowan, the look in his eyes unreadable but determined.
When he answers, his voice is softer than Rowan’s ever heard it before.
“’Cause now I associate red with you… and I don’t ever wanna think of you as a bad thing.”
A lump forms in the back of Rowan’s throat that doesn’t seem to want to go away no matter how much he swallows around it.
“Mal….”
“You always keep your promises?” Mal asks in a whisper.
“Always.”
It doesn’t register with Rowan why he’s asking until Mal’s free hand comes up to cup Rowan’s cheek, warm palm gently resting on his skin.
Time moves in slow motion.
Vaguely, Rowan registers Mal leaning closer, leaningin, but it isn’t until his soft lips are pressed against his own that he realizes what’s happening. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, an undignified whimper erupting from the back of his throat. Rowan’s brain finally gets with the program, and he kisses Mal back. Slow and soft and filling Rowan’s entire body to the brim with butterflies and fireworks and cotton candy. Mal’s plush lips moving against his own beat every single scene they’ve ever done. His kiss beats the high of getting him into subspace and making him come by a landslide.
Rowan wants to roll them over, press Mal into the mattress and kiss the life out of him until both their lips are chapped and their spit runs dry, but this isn’t the time. He thinks that maybe Mal needs to be in control right now. Set the pace. Later. Rowan can take over later, because there’s gonnabea later, he’s sure of it. With the way his heart is pounding in his chest and the way Mal’s shifting his weight to straddle Rowan’s hips and get closer, closer, there’sdefinitelygoing to be a later.
They kiss for what feels like hours and seconds all at once. Exploring each other’s mouth softly with lips, then more eagerly with tongues, a mutual gasp at the first touch. Mal tastes like fire and cinnamon sugar and something that makes Rowan’s toes curl and his belly twist itself into knots.
When they pull back, Mal’s eyes flutter open slowly, gilded honey even in the dim lights of his bedroom.
He’s beautiful, perfect,gorgeous, and Rowan’s never wanted to keep kissing someone so badly in his entire fucking life, his lungs aching for the taste of him.
“Stay,” Mal whispers, lips still brushing against Rowan’s.
Rowan nods silently, pressing his forehead against Mal’s and letting his eyes drift shut as his lips find Mal’s once more.
IT’S EASY,navigating being in Mal’s space. Far easier than he thought it might be in the spare seconds he’d given to thinking about it between kissing Mal. They slip their briefs back on and pad barefoot across the plush carpet of the bedroom to the bathroom.
Side by side, they wash their hands and faces and wipe the come off of their stomachs. They brush their teeth in tandem—Rowan borrowing an extra toothbrush that Mal had stashed under the sink—like they’ve been doing it for years. Rowan takes his pills he always carries with him with a cup of tap water, completely unashamed of doing so in front of Mal for the first time.
It feels so good, sodomestic, that it fills Rowan with amber and sunlight in a way that he’s never felt before.
Together they change the soiled sheets, working side by side so easily that Rowan’s heart soars with every corner they tuck in. It reminds Rowan of that first time they cleaned up the bed together after the gangbang—working as if they’ve been cohabiting each other’s space for years, not months.
They climb into bed, Rowan on the left and Mal on the right, again so natural and uncomplicated that Rowan questions why he was ever worried about them working out in the first place.
They face each other, talking about nothing important as their eyelids droop closed and the promise of sleep takes them. Mal leans forward, drawing Rowan into a simple kiss that makes Rowan melt.
Mal rolls onto his other side, letting Rowan wrap his arm around his waist and pull him close against his chest. Rowan feels him sigh before relaxing completely into the mattress, warm and pliable and the best thing Rowan’s ever felt in his arms.
