Page 190 of The Menagerie
Mal nods frantically.
Smack!Rowan’s palm rains down on Mal’s left pec, just shy of where his nipple is turning red from the clamp.
“Fuck!”
“Answer mewhen I ask you a question.”
“Y-yes. Feels fucking good.”
“Better.”
Rowan crouches down beside Mal, raking his nails down his chest and thighs on the way as he settles on his knees. He runs a palm over Mal’s bulge, the black-and-gold fabric of his jockstrap stretching but not revealing its contents. Mal groans and tosses his head back as Rowan gropes his ass, massaging each cheek in his hands. It isn’t until Mal’s greedily hitching his hips back that Rowan reaches for the lube and the prostate massager.
Mal’s never been a big fan of vibrators, but they bought the toy a couple of months ago, and it made Mal come harder than he pretty much ever has in three minutes flat, so it’s the perfect toy to tease him with tonight.
Because Mal needs to last the whole night without coming until Rowan lets him. Rowan has edged him plenty of times by now, but this will be the most intense session by far. Not only because of the numerous toys he brought with them, but also because of the added stimulation of dozens of pairs of eyes watching their every move. Eyes that Rowan can feel on him as he works a lubed finger into Mal’s hole. Mal moans, hips jutting forward in an attempt to work Rowan’s finger deeper inside him.
Smack!Rowan rains a hand down on the inside of Mal’s thigh.
“Hold still.”
“Make me.” The challenge is clear in Mal’s voice.
Rowan uses his free hand to grab Mal’s hips, shoving him back against the cross with athud! that’s audible even over the lowly thumping club music and a few collective groans from their audience.
“You’re not exactly in a position to be a mouthy brat,” Rowan tells him, shoving a second finger inside.
Mal mewls. He tries to rock his hips forward, but he has no leverage, and Rowan’s grip on him is too strong. Rowan can see the hard line of his cock through the jockstrap, and he watches with rapt attention as his cock jumps as soon as Rowan’s fingers spear into his prostate. A loud moan is ripped from his mouth, cutting off whatever snarky retort he was about to make.
Rowan laughs low, fucking into him and brushing against his prostate on every other stroke, reveling in Mal’s gaspy moans and the desperate hitching of his hips under Rowan’s palm. He digs his nails into his hip, knowing that Mal likes the bite and the crescent-moon indentations that will be left over for at least the rest of the night, if not longer.
“Gonna fill you up,” Rowan says. “Get this perfect ass open for my cock. Have you begging for it by the time I’m done.”
“We’ll see about that,” Mal retorts, though it’s low and breathy.
Rowan smacks his thigh again, the sharpslap!of it echoing in the corner. He slicks the prostate massager in lube before sliding it into Mal’s hole and nestling it right against his sweet spot. Rowan flicks the remote, the toy buzzing to life and making Mal jump at the sensation. He can barely hear the lowzzt, zzt, zztof the pulsing setting as it whirs away inside Mal’s body.
“Let’s see how you do with this first. Then we’ll see about you begging.”
“Oooh…,” Mal moans, head craned back, exposing the long column of his neck to the stark overhead lights.
Rowan lets him stand there for a few moments, adjusting to the sensations. He runs his hands up and down Mal’s bare torso, feeling the dip and swell of his abs under his palms, tugging absently on the chain connecting the nipple clamps when Mal’s still for too long. It draws these tiny whimpers from Mal that head straight to Rowan’s already hard cock and make something feral coil in his belly.
He bends down, tonguing over Mal’s clamped nipples, the metallic bite of the clamps cold on his tongue, but Mal’s flesh hot. Mal writhes underneath him, straining against his bonds. Rowan presses him back against the cross with a hand to his rib cage, nearly covering the entire length of his abdomen. Despite that Mal’s a full-grown man, it’ll never cease to make Rowan go fucking insane that he’sthatmuch smaller than Rowan that his hand can span half of his torso.
He can feel Mal’s moan vibrate through his rib cage.
Rowan leans in, breathing in Mal’s scent deeply as he shakes against the cross, all sweat and musk andMal. A smell he’ll never get tired of.
“Rowan,” Mal gasps, pulse hammering loud enough for Rowan to hear. “C’mon….”
“C’mon what?” Rowan replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Need more….”
“Funny that you think you’ve earned more already.”
Mal mewls, a frustrated, garbled sound in the back of his throat. Rowan tugs on his nipple clamps, drawing a gasp from the other man.
